THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


EDWARD- S- SULLIVAN 


Troubadour  Tales 


Troubadour  Tales 

By  Evaleen  Stein 


With  Illustrations 
By  Virginia  Keep 
Maxfield  Parrish 
B.  Rosenmeyer  &? 
Edward  Edwards 


Indianapolis 

The  Bobbs-Merrill  Company 
Publishers 


Copyright  1903 
The  Bobbs-Merrill  Company 

~Jdy~ 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


PRESS  OF 

RRAUNWORTH    It  CO. 

BOOK  MANUFACTURER* 

BROOKLYN,  N.  Y. 


To  My  Mother 


631959 


Contents 

THE  PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD  i 

THE  LOST  RUNE  27 

COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD  76 

FELIX  I32 


Troubadour  Tales 


THE  PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD 

HOW  HE  EARNED  THE  FAVOR  OF  KING  RENE  AND 

WON  A  SILVER  CUP  FOR  CLEVERNESS 

IN  THE  LATIN  TONGUE 

"  PIERROT!  Pierrot!  are  thy  saddle-bags 
well  fastened  ?  And  how  fare  my  lutestrings  ? 
Have  a  care  lest  some  of  them  snap  with  jog 
ging  over  this  rough  bit  of  road.  And,  Pierrot, 
next  time  we  pass  a  fine  periwinkle  thou  hadst 
best  jump  down  and  pluck  a  fresh  bunch  for  my 
Barbo's  ears." 

The  speaker,  Count  Reynaurd  of  Poitiers, 
patted  the  fluffy  black  mane  of  his  horse  Barbo, 
and  loosened  the  great  nosegay  of  blue  flowers 


2  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

tucked  into  his  harness  and  nodding  behind  his 
ears.  Barbo  was  gaily  decked  out;  long  sprays 
of  myrtle  dangled  from  his  saddle-bow,  and  a 
wreath  of  periwinkle  and  violets  hung  round 
his  neck ;  for  the  Count  Reynaurd  was  not  only 
a  noble  lord,  but  also  a  famous  troubadour. 
That  is  to  say,  he  spent  his  time  riding  from 
castle  to  castle,  playing  on  his  lute  or  viol,  and 
singing  beautiful  songs  of  his  own  making. 

In  the  days  when  he  lived,  which  was  many 
hundred  years  ago,  there  were  numberless  such 
poet-singers  strolling  over  the  sunny  land  of 
France,  and  especially  that  part  which  lies  to 
the  south  and  is  called  Provence.  Many  of  the 
greatest  of  these  kept  little  pages  to  wait  upon 
them  and  carry  their  musical  instruments ;  and 
so  it  was  that  Pierrot  rode  a  little  white  palfrey 
by  the  side  of  Count  Reynaurd,  and  carried  his 
lute,  and  gathered  the  periwinkle  for  the  gay 
bouquets  that  decorated  Barbo's  ears. 

It  was  May-time,  and  they  were  journeying 
through  the  lovely  land  of  Provence,  which  was 


quite  enough  to  make  any  one  happy,  and  the 
count  and  Pierrot  were  fairly  brimming  over 
with  good  humor  as  they  rode  along.  They 
were  bound  for  the  old  town  of  Aix,  where  in 
those  days  stood  the  palace  of  the  good  King 
Rene,  whom  everybody  loved. 

Now,  King  Rene  himself  was  a  troubadour, 
although  he  could  not  wander  about  over  the 
country  as  did  the  others,  but  was  obliged  to 
stay  in  Aix  and  govern  his  people.  Yet  he 
spent  hours  and  hours  every  day  writing  poetry 
and  making  up  music  for  it ;  and  he  delighted 
above  all  things  to  gather  about  him  all  who 
could  finger  a  lutestring  or  sing  a  merry  song. 
There  were  always  dozens  of  fine  troubadours 
staying  with  King  Rene,  and  he  was  never 
weary  of  adding  to  their  number,  and  of  seek 
ing  out  the  best  in  France ;  and  so  it  chanced 
he  had  heard  much  of  the  great  skill  of  Pierrot's 
master  and  also  of  another  noble  lord,  the  Count 
William  of  Auvergne.  The  friends  of  each  of 
these  boasted  that  none  other  in  all  France  was 


4  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

worthy  to  be  called  the  champion  of  the  trouba 
dours.  So  Rene  had  sent  messages  to  both,  in 
viting  them  to  come  and  visit  him,  and  to  hold 
a  contest  of  song,  saying  he  would  give  a  beau 
tiful  collar  of  jewels  to  the  one  who  sang  the 
better. 

In  response  to  this  invitation,  the  Count  Wil 
liam  was  already  in  Aix,  having  come  the  day 
before,  after  a  long  journey  from  his  castle  in 
Auvergne.  He  was  now  resting,  awaiting  the 
Count  Reynaurd,  and  pleasing  himself  in  think 
ing  of  the  glory  of  winning  the  jeweled  collar ; 
for  he  fully  expected  by  and  by  to  carry  it  off  as 
his  prize. 

Meantime,  Count  Reynaurd  and  Pierrot  trot 
ted  gaily  along  the  road  to  Aix.  The  almond- 
trees  were  in  flower,  and  from  one  of  them 
Pierrot  had  broken  a  little  switch  covered  with 
rosy  blossoms,  with  which  he  now  and  then 
tapped  the  flank  of  his  little  white  palfrey,  who 
would  then  kick  up  her  heels  and  frisk  along 
at  a  rollicking  pace.  Pierrot's  own  legs  looked 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD       5 

lovely  in  party-colored  hose,  the  right  being 
a  beautiful  pearl-gray  and  the  left  a  delicate 
robin' s-egg  blue ;  his  doublet  was  of  pink  silk 
embroidered  in  silver  and  slashed  with  white 
satin;  and  on  his  head  he  wore  a  jaunty  cap 
with  a  long  feather.  He  was  a  handsome  little 
fellow,  with  bright  eyes  and  dark  curls,  and 
as  gay  and  lively  as  the  great  black  Crickets 
that  live  in  Provence. 

His  master,  Count  Reynaurd,  looked  very 
stately  in  a  suit  of  plum-colored  velvet,  with  a 
collar  of  fine  lace  fastened  with  a  golden  violet, 
which  he  often  felt,  so  as  to  be  sure  he  had  not 
lost  it  and  that  it  was  still  tightly  clasped.  For 
the  gold  violet  was  a  prize  that  the  count  had 
just  won  in  the  town  of  Toulouse,  whither,  every 
May-time,  all  the  troubadours  used  to  go  and 
hold  great  contests,  called  the  Games  of  Flow 
ers.  At  these  games  each  one  sang  a  song, 
and  the  most  skilful  received  prizes,  a  violet 
of  gold  and  a  rose  of  silver  being  the  most 
wished  for. 


6  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

So  Count  Reynaurd  was  very  proud  and 
happy  thinking  how  finely  the  violet  would 
serve  to  clasp  the  collar  of  jewels  he  expected 
to  win  from  King  Rene,  and  he  smiled  pleas 
antly  when  Pierrot  called  out  to  him : 

"  See,  my  Lord  1  are  not  those  the  high  tow 
ers  of  Aix?" 

Count  Reynaurd  looked  ahead,  and,  sure 
enough,  far  in  the  distance  rose  the  city  of 
Aix.  They  set  their  horses  a-galloping,  and  in 
a  little  while  found  themselves  riding  through 
its  quaint,  crooked  streets,  till  they  reached  the 
great  square  where  stood  the  king's  palace. 
This  was  a  very  beautiful  one,  strangely  built, 
with  two  ancient  round  towers  and  a  wide 
porch  with  many  pillars ;  all  about  it  was  a 
lovely  garden  full  of  orange  and  acacia  trees, 
and  sweet  roses  and  jasmines  clambered  over 
everything. 

Count  Reynaurd  and  Pierrot  dismounted  at 
the  palace  gate,  and  were  led  into  the  great 
hall  where  sat  King  Rene,  wearing  a  blue  robe 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD       7 

embroidered  in  bright  flowers.  He  was  an  old 
man,  and  his  hair  and  long  beard  were  quite 
white,  but  he  was  gay  and  happy-hearted  as 
Pierrot  himself.  When  he  saw  the  Count  Rey- 
naurd  enter  the  hall,  he  arose  from  his  throne 
and  came  down  and  embraced  and  kissed  him, 
and  patted  Pierrot  kindly.  For  Rene  was  not 
like  most  kings,  who  are  very  particular  to  have 
everybody  about  them  as  stiff  and  uncomforta 
ble  as  possible. 

Then  presently  the  Count  William,  who  had 
been  walking  in  the  garden,  hearing  of  the 
arrival  of  Reynaurd,  came  hurrying  in,  his 
own  little  page  Henri  following  close  upon  his 
heels.  He  greeted  Count  Reynaurd  very  cor 
dially,  for  he  had  often  met  him  at  the  games 
of  Toulouse,  and  the  little  pages  Henri  and 
Pierrot  soon  became  the  best  of  friends  also. 

As  the  day  was  now  drawing  to  a  close,  the 
good  old  king  invited  them  all  into  the  banquet 
hall,  where  were  already  gathered  numbers  of 
troubadours,  and  minnesingers  who  were  the 


8  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

troubadours  of  Germany.  Some  were  eating 
and  drinking;  some  were  telling  stories  or 
making  up  poetry ;  while  still  others  were  play 
ing  on  all  sorts  oi  musical  instruments,  and 
were  altogether  having  the  jolliest  kind  of  time. 

Reynaurd  and  Pierrot  were  very  hungry  after 
their  long  ride,  and  so  were  glad  to  sit  down  at 
one  of  the  long  tables  while  the  king's  sene 
schals  brought  in  roasted  boar's-head  and  veni 
son  pasties,  and  large  baskets  of  the  fine  white 
bread  of  Provence  and  of  brown  marchpanes, 
which  were  nice  little  old-time  French  cookies 
full  of  raisins  and  covered  with  nuts  and  poppy- 
seeds. 

Pierrot  waited  upon  his  master  very  pret 
tily,  and  then  feasted  upon  dainties  to  his 
heart's  content,  all  the  while  listening  with  de 
light  to  the  gay  songs  of  the  troubadours  and 
minnesingers.  By  and  by  his  curly  head  began 
to  nod,  and  he  fell  asleep  while  still  munching 
a  marchpane,  and  slept  so  soundly  that  he  had 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD       9 

to  be  shaken  when  it  was  time  to  go  upstairs, 
where  a  little  cot  was  spread  for  him  close  to 
the  great  canopied  bed  of  the  Count  Reynaurd. 

So  the  days  passed  merrily  on.  But  when, 
time  after  time,  King  Rene  fixed  a  day  for  the 
contest  between  the  Counts  Reynaurd  and  Wil 
liam,  they  would  plead  that  they  were  not  ready  ; 
for  they  had  grown  so  lazy  and  pampered  by  the 
life  they  led  in  the  palace  that  they  dawdled  away 
their  time  in  idle  pleasure. 

At  last  the  king  grew  impatient,  and  declared 
that  he  would  shut  them  up,  each  in  his  own 
room,  where  they  must  stay  for  ten  days  com 
posing  their  songs;  and  he  commanded  that 
then  they  should  appear  before  him,  and  be 
judged  and  rewarded  according  to  their  skill. 

So  Count  William  and  Count  Reynaurd  were 
escorted  up  the  palace  stairway  to  their  chamber 
doors,  and  each  agreed,  upon  his  knightly  honor, 
which  was  a  very  solemn  vow  indeed,  that  he 
would  not  set  foot  beyond  his  threshold  until 


io  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

the  day  appointed  by  the  good  king ;  and  it  be 
came  the  duty  of  Pierrot  and  Henri  to  bring 
food  and  wait  upon  their  noble  masters. 

But  these  two  masters  fared  differently  in 
their  song-making.  In  the  apartments  of  Hen 
ri's  lord,  things  went  far  from  smoothly ;  for, 
although  Count  William  was  really  a  very 
accomplished  troubadour,  yet  when  he  found 
himself  shut  up  and  obliged  to  make  a  song, 
not  a  word  could  he  write.  Indeed,  poets  de 
clare  that  this  is  often  the  way  with  them  ; 
most  beautiful  verses  will  suddenly  pop  into 
their  heads,  sometimes  in  the  middle  of  the 
night,  so  that  they  have  to  jump  up  in  the  dark 
to  get  pencil  and  paper  to  write  them  down  be 
fore  they  forget ;  while,  many  times,  if  they 
have  paper  and  pen  ready,  so  contrary  are  their 
wits  that  very  likely  they  can  not  write  a  word  I 
And  so  it  was  with  the  Count  William. 

He  fussed  and  fumed,  but  not  even  the  least 
little  bit  of  a  rhyme  could  he  make ;  and  the 
more  he  wished  it,  the  more  impossible  it  seemed 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD      1 1 

to  become.  He  strode  up  and  down  the  room  ; 
he  snatched  his  paper  and  tore  it  into  bits ;  and 
then  he  scolded  Henri  till  the  poor  little  fellow 
tiptoed  out  in  his  little  pointed  velvet  shoes,  and 
fled  to  the  garden,  where  he  sat  down  under  an 
orange  tree,  and  consoled  himself  with  some 
fresh  cookies  that  one  of  the  kitchen  scullions 
brought  out  to  him.  As  he  crunched  down  the 
sugary  morsels  he  now  and  then  flung  a  crumb 
to  the  pretty  goldfishes  in  a  fountain  by  his  side  ; 
and  then  he  wondered  what  any  one  wanted  to 
make  up  poetry  for  anyway,  especially  when  it 
was  May-time  and  one  might  sit  in  King  Rene's 
garden,  and  above  all,  on  a  day  when  King 
Rene's  cooks  were  making  sweetmeats. 

Meantime,  across  the  corridor  from  Henri's 
master  things  were  going  on  very  differently 
with  the  noble  Reynaurd  and  Pierrot.  As  luck 
would  have  it,  this  count  was  getting  on  fa 
mously.  He  had  composed  a  most  beautiful 
poem,  and  lovely  music  by  which  to  sing  it, 
and  was  altogether  so  pleased  with  himself  and 


12  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

all  the  world  that  he  snapped  his  fingers  joy 
ously,  and  fetched  Pierrot  a  playful  slap  on  the 
shoulder,  crying,  "  Hey,  Pierrot,  just  listen 
to  this  ! "  And  then  in  a  loud  voice  he  began 
to  sing. 

Pierrot  was  so  delighted  that  he  clapped  his 
hands,  and  declared  he  was  quite  sure  his  lord 
would  win  the  prize,  and  shame  the  Count  Wil 
liam  into  everlasting  silence.  Then  he  helped 
himself  to  a  couple  of  great  golden  oranges 
from  a  basket  he  had  just  brought  to  Reynaurd, 
and  strutted  out  to  air  himself,  and  to  boast  to 
Henri  of  his  master's  superior  skill. 

Meantime,  Count  Reynaurd  sang  over  and 
over  his  new  song,  each  time  roaring  it  out 
louder  and  louder,  till  his  lungs  fairly  ached. 

While  all  this  was  going  on,  the  Count  Wil 
liam,  in  a  great  rage,  was  still  striding  up  and 
down  the  floor  of  his  chamber,  which  happened 
to  be  across  the  corridor  and  at  no  great  dis 
tance  from  that  of  the  happy  Reynaurd.  And, 
as  it  happened  also,  when  Pierrot  went  out  he 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD     13 

forgot  to  close  the  door  behind  him — a  fact 
which  Count  Reynaurd  had  not  noticed.  The 
door  was  very  thick  and  heavy,  and  fitted  badly 
between  the  stone  walls,  so  it  was  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  Pierrot  did  not  manage  to 
latch  it. 

As  it  was,  the  loud  voice  of  Count  Reynaurd 
came  rolling  forth,  and  suddenly  the  Count 
William,  angrily  pacing  the  floor,  stood  stock- 
still  and  pricked  up  his  ears. 

Now,  the  count's  ears  were  famous  for  being 
extraordinarily  sharp,  and  he  was  also  wonder 
fully  apt  at  remembering  anything  to  which  he 
had  once  carefully  listened.  He  knew  in  a  mo 
ment  the  voice  of  Count  Reynaurd,  and  then 
a  broad  smile  crept  over  his  face,  and  he  list 
ened  harder  than  ever. 

As  Reynaurd  kept  singing  over  and  over 
again,  it  was  not  long  till  Count  William  had 
the  whole  song  by  heart,  and  then,  seizing  his 
own  lute,  he  began  practising  it  very  softly. 

"  Ha,   ha,   ha!"   he    laughed    to    himself. 


I4  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

"Thou  great  foolish  Reynaurd !  Canst  thou 
never  learn  how  to  hold  thy  tongue?  But 
never  mind,  I  will  play  such  a  trick  on  thee  as 
will  teach  thee  a  lesson  thou' It  not  soon  forget. 
Ha,  ha,  ha!"  And  then  he  practised  longer, 
till  he  knew  both  the  poetry  and  music  as  well 
as  Count  Reynaurd  himself. 

The  next  day,  Pierrot,  still  exulting  over  his 
master's  skill,  happened  to  meet  Henri  in  the 
garden,  and  asked  how  his  noble  lord  was  get 
ting  on. 

"Oh!"  said  Henri,  "finely.  He  has  just 
made  a  lovely  new  song !  "  And  with  that  he 
hummed  a  snatch  of  the  melody  he  had  heard 
Count  William  singing,  and  which  he  thought 
his  master  had  composed. 

As  Pierrot  heard  the  music  he  could  scarce 
believe  his  ears ;  first  he  was  speechless  with 
astonishment,  but  at  last  he  sputtered  out : 

"It  is  not  true — it  is  stolen !  That  is  my 
dear  master's,  the  Count  Reynaurd's!" 

"  Pierrot,"  burst  in  Henri,  "  I  would  have 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD      15 

thee  understand  that  my  noble  lord,  the  Count 
William,  does  not  steal,  and  is  a  far  better 
singer,  anyhow,  than  thy  great  Reynaurd !" 

From  this  matters  went  from  bad  to  worse, 
till  the  two  little  pages  were  just  on  the  point  of 
coming  to  blows ;  but,  fortunately,  at  this  point 
one  of  King  Rene's  seneschals  caught  sight  of 
them,  and,  hastening  up,  gave  each  a  sound 
cuff  on  the  ear,  crying  out  as  he  did  so : 

"  Ho,  ye  saucy  little  knaves  !  Know  ye  not 
the  good  king  will  have  no  brawlers  upon  these 
palace  grounds?  Take  that,  sirrahs  !  and  see 
to  it  that  ye  behave  more  seemly  hereafter." 

The  pages  being  thus  forcibly  separated, 
Pierrot  ran  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carry  him 
up  the  palace  stairs,  and  burst  into  his  master's 
chamber,  panting  out  indignantly: 

"  Dear  Lord  Reynaurd,  the  wicked  Count 
William  has  stolen  thy  beautiful  song  and  will 
win  the  prize  !  And  I  tried  to  stop  Henri,  and 
— o-o-oh — "  Here  poor  Pierrot,  still  smarting 
under  the  cuff  from  the  seneschal,  quite  broke 


16  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

down,  and  was  obliged  to  double  his  fists  very 
hard  and  bite  his  lips  to  keep  back  the  angry 
tears. 

At  first  Count  Reynaurd  gasped  with  aston 
ishment,  and  then  jumped  up  in  a  towering 
passion.  But  by  and  by  his  wits  came  back  to 
him,  and  he  remembered  that  Count  William 
had  always  been  a  good  friend  of  his ;  but  then 
his  heart  misgave  him  as  he  remembered,  too, 
that  Count  William  was  a  famous  joker,  and 
loved  a  jest  above  all  things. 

The  more  he  thought  of  it,  the  more  sure  he 
felt  that  William  only  meant  in  some  way  to 
tease  him,  though  he  could  not  understand 
how  he  had  learned  the  song.  Just  then  his 
eyes  fell  on  the  door,  that  Pierrot  in  his  haste 
had  left  unfastened,  as  usual;  and  then  it 
flashed  through  Count  Reynaurd's  mind  how 
Count  William  had  found  out  about  the  music. 
Reynaurd,  moreover,  had  no  doubt  but  that, 
before  the  king,  William  would  probably  sing 
the  piece  as  his  own, — a  thing  which  he  could 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD     17 

easily  do,  as  Rene  had  announced  that  they 
would  be  called  on  in  alphabetical  order,  ac 
cording  to  the  names  of  their  domains ;  and  as 
Auvergne  thus  came  before  Poitiers,  Reynaurd 
knew  that  Count  William  would  sing  first,  and 
that  it  would  then  be  hard  to  make  the  people 
believe  that  the  song  was  his  and  not  William's  ; 
yet  he  determined,  if  possible,  to  try  in  some 
way  to  get  the  better  of  him. 

He  thought  and  thought  very  hard  for  a  little 
while,  and  then  suddenly  he  said  to  Pierrot: 

"Pierrot,  dost  thou  still  remember  the  Latin 
tongue  that  good  Father  Ambrose  taught  thee 
last  winter  in  our  castle  in  Poitiers?" 

The  little  page  assured  his  lord  that  he  did, 
for  he  was  really  a  clever  scholar  in  the  Latin 
tongue,  which  both  his  master  and  the  Count 
William  understood  but  indifferently. 

Then  Count  Reynaurd  called  him  close  to  his 
side,  and  whispered  a  plan  to  him  that  seemed 
to  please  them  both  mightily.  Pierrot  at  once 
took  the  goose-quill  pen  that  Reynaurd  handed 


1 8  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

him,  and  after  screwing  up  his  face  and  working 
very  carefully,  he  wrote  these  lines  : 

Hoc  carmen  non  composui, 
Quod  cano,  quod  cano  ! 

and  this  he  took  great  pains  to  teach  his  master. 
The  next  day  Count  Reynaurd  sang  his  song 
over  again  and  again,  and  Pierrot  purposely  left 
the  door  ajar.  Count  William  noticed  that  after 
every  stanza  there  were  two  new  lines  added 
in  another  tongue : 

Hoc  carmen  non  composui, 
Quod  cano,  quod  cano  ! 

At  first  this  puzzled  Count  William  very 
much  indeed. 

"  Faugh !"  he  said  to  himself  at  length, 
"that  ridiculous  Reynaurd  is  seeking  to  give 
a  learned  air  to  his  poetry !  I  dare  say  he  has 
picked  up  those  lines  out  of  some  old  manu 
script,  and  thinks  to  pass  himself  off  for  a  great 
scholar." 

Then  Count  William  tried  to  make  out  the 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD     19 

meaning  of  the  words,  which  were  fitted  into 
the  rhyme  of  the  stanzas  in  such  a  way  that 
they  could  not  well  be  left  out.  He  studied 
over  them  till  he  thought  he  understood  them, 
though,  as  it  turned  out,  he  was  quite  mistaken. 
But  as  it  was  a  common  way  with  the  trou 
badours  to  end  every  stanza  with  similar  lines, 
which  they  called  the  refrain,  Count  William 
suspected  nothing,  and  set  himself  to  work  to 
learn  the  new  words. 

The  time  that  the  king  had  allowed  the  rival 
noblemen  was  now  almost  up,  and  in  two  days 
more  the  song-contest  took  place. 

The  great  banqueting-hall  had  been  beautifully 
hung  with  garlands  of  flowers  and  gay  banners. 
At  one  end  of  it  the  king's  throne  stood  on 
a  dais,  and  over  it  swung  a  scarlet  canopy  like 
an  enormous  poppy-flower  turned  upside  down. 
In  the  middle  of  the  room  were  placed  long  ta 
bles,  and  in  the  palace  kitchens  the  cooks  were 
running  about  busying  themselves  preparing  the 
great  feast  that  was  to  follow. 


20  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

By  and  by  King  Rene  came  into  the  hall  and 
took  his  seat  on  the  throne.  He  wore  a  rich 
robe  of  purple  velvet,  embroidered  all  over  in 
the  brightest  silks  and  gold ;  after  him  came 
a  great  troupe  of  troubadours  and  minnesing 
ers,  some  carrying  their  own  harps  or  viols,  and 
some  followed  by  little  pages  who  bore  their 
masters'  belongings. 

As  the  good  King  Rene  looked  at  his  gay 
company  and  the  brilliantly  lighted  hall  and  the 
long  tables,  his  eyes  sparkled  with  delight,  and 
his  heart  swelled  with  joy  when  he  thought  of 
the  coming  contest ;  for  he  was  never  so  pleased 
as  when  thus  surrounded  by  his  dear  trouba 
dours,  whom  he  loved  to  make  in  every  way  as 
happy  as  possible. 

Then,  when  all  was  ready,  a  gaily  dressed 
herald  came  into  the  hall,  and  kneeling  before 
the  king,  and  bowing  to  the  assembled  com 
pany,  announced  the  coming  of  the  two  counts, 
William  and  Reynaurd.  All  the  other  trouba 
dours  and  minnesingers  stood  up,  and  King 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD     21 

Rene  smiled  graciously  as  the  two  noblemen 
entered,  followed  by  their  pages,  Pierrot  and 
Henri,  each  of  whom  carried  a  viol  bedecked 
with  long  silken  ribbons. 

When  the  counts  had  saluted  the  king  and 
taken  their  places  before  him,  he  commanded  a 
seneschal  to  bear  in  the  prize;  and  so  the 
beautiful  collar  of  jewels  was  brought  in  upon  a 
silver  tray  and  placed  on  a  carved  bench  beside 
the  king.  Then  a  herald  stepped  out,  and, 
lifting  the  collar  upon  the  point  of  a  flower- 
wreathed  lance,  displayed  it  to  all  the  company 
and  announced  the  terms  of  the  contest  of  song 
about  to  take  place. 

This  ceremony  was  a  great  deal  better  and 
prettier  than  the  customs  of  most  of  the  other 
royal  courts  of  that  time.  In  all  the  lands  ex 
cept  where  King  Rene  lived,  when  the  people 
desired  entertainment,  they  used  to  gather  to 
gether  to  see  contests  called  tournaments,  in 
which  noble  lords  tried  to  overthrow  one  another 
with  real  lances  on  which  were  no  garlands. 


22  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

But  King  Rene  could  not  endure  such  barbar 
ous  displays,  and  so  in  his  palace  no  one  fought 
another  except  with  pretty  verses,  and  the  best 
poet  was  champion. 

When  all  the  usual  ceremonies  had  been 
gone  through,  the  king  called  Count  William  to 
step  forth  first  and  sing  his  song.  There  was  a 
merry  twinkle  in  the  count's  eyes  as  he  took 
his  viol  from  Henri,  hung  the  silken  ribbons 
about  his  neck,  and  then,  after  striking  a  few 
soft  notes  with  the  tips  of  his  fingers,  began  to 
sing,  as  his  own,  the  song  made  up  by  Count 
Reynaurd.  He  went  through  the  whole  piece, 
although  each  time  when  he  came  to  the  Latin 
lines  he  mumbled  them  over  so  that  the  words 
sounded  indistinct,  and  one  could  not  be  cer 
tain  just  what  they  were. 

When  he  had  finished,  the  king  was  delight 
ed,  and  all  the  listeners  clapped  their  hands 
and  wondered  how  it  would  be  possible  for 
Count  Reynaurd  to  do  better.  Indeed,  they 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD     23 

looked  rather  pityingly  on  Reynaurd,  as  one 
already  defeated. 

Then,  when  the  cheers  had  somewhat  quieted 
down,  King  Rene  commanded  Count  Reynaurd 
to  stand  forth  and  take  his  turn  for  the  prize. 
Reynaurd  quietly  stepped  out,  and,  saluting 
the  king,  said : 

"  My  royal  liege,  the  song  to  which  you  have 
just  listened  was  not  the  work  of  Count  William 
of  Auvergne,  but  of  myself,  Reynaurd  of  Poi 
tiers." 

At  this,  as  Count  Reynaurd  had  expected, 
every  one  looked  incredulous,  and  Count  Wil 
liam  pretended  to  be  very  indignant,  and  de 
clared  that  he  had  not  been  outside  of  his  own 
apartments  for  the  ten  days ;  that  he  had  not 
set  eyes  on  Count  Reynaurd  through  all  that 
time  ;  and  altogether  he  appeared  to  be  terribly 
angry  that  Count  Reynaurd  should  hint  that 
the  song  belonged  to  him. 

Count  Reynaurd,   however,  asked  but  one 


24  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

thing  of  the  king,  who  readily  granted  his  re 
quest.  It  was  that  Count  William  be  com 
manded  to  sing  the  song  once  more,  and  that 
each  time  he  should  sing  the  Latin  lines  as  plain 
ly  as  possible. 

Count  William  looked  somewhat  abashed  at 
this  proposal,  and  began  to  suspect  that  a  trap 
had  been  laid  for  him.  However,  he  could  not 
refuse  to  do  the  command  of  King  Rene,  es 
pecially  when  it  seemed  so  simple  a  thing ;  and 
so  he  was  obliged  to  sing  again,  and  say  the 
Latin  words  plainly,  all  the  while  very  angry 
with  himself  because  on  the  spur  of  the  moment 
he  could  think  of  no  other  words  to  put  in  place 
of  the  Latin  refrain,  which  was  so  cleverly 
woven  into  each  stanza  that  it  could  not  be  left 
out  without  spoiling  the  rhyme. 

The  king  listened  attentively,  for,  as  the 
Count  Reynaurd  knew,  Rene  was  a  good  Latin 
scholar  himself;  and  presently,  when  the  re 
frain  came  into  the  song : 


PAGE  OF  COUNT  REYNAURD     25 

Hoc  carmen  non  composui, 
Quod  cano,  quod  cano  ! 

King  Rene  began  to  laugh ;  and  he  laughed 
and  laughed  till  the  tears  fairly  ran  down  his 
cheeks  ;  for  what  do  you  think  the  words  really 
mean  ?  They  mean  : 

I  did  not  make  this  song, 
That  I  sing,  that  I  sing  I 

When  the  king  at  last  managed  to  stop  laugh 
ing  for  a  few  minutes,  he  translated  the  lines  so 
that  every  one  could  hear. 

At  first  Count  William  looked  very  blank ; 
then,  realizing  how  cleverly  the  tables  had  been 
turned  upon  him  and  he  had  been  caught  in  his 
own  prank,  he  enjoyed  the  joke  as  much  as  any 
body,  and  laughed  the  loudest  of  all.  Indeed, 
such  a  "Ha,  ha!"  as  went  up  through  the 
whole  banquet-hall  was  never  before  heard, 
and  the  very  rafters  seemed  to  shake  with  glee. 

The  good  king  was  so  delighted  with  the  en 
tertainment  that  he  called  Count  Reynaurd  and 


26  [TROUBADOUR  TALES 

Count  William  both  before  him,  and  taking  a 
hand  of  each,  he  declared  that  the  jeweled  collar 
must  be  divided  equally  between  them.  He  at 
once  ordered  his  goldsmiths  to  set  to  work  to 
make  it  into  two  collars  instead  of  one ;  which 
they  could  very  easily  do,  as  it  was  so  wide  and 
heavy. 

Then  the  king  had  a  lovely  silver  cup  brought 
in  for  Pierrot,  because  of  his  cleverness  in  the 
Latin  tongue ;  and  afterward  the  whole  com 
pany  of  troubadours  and  minnesingers  and  pages 
sat  down  and  feasted  so  merrily  that,  years  later, 
when  Pierrot  himself  grew  to  be  a  famous  trou 
badour,  he  used  often  to  sing,  in  the  castles  of 
the  French  nobles,  of  the  gaiety  of  that  great 
festival. 


THE  LOST  RUNE 

THE  LEGEND  OF  A  LOST  POEM  AND  THE  ADVEN 
TURES  OF  LITTLE  ELSA  IN  RESTOR 
ING  IT  TO  HER  PEOPLE 

Eery,  airy, 
Elf  and  fairy, 

Steep  me  deep  in  magic  dreams ! 
Charm  from  harm  of  water  witches, 
Guide  where  hide  the  hoarded  riches 
Sunken  in  Suomi  streams! 

As  the  strains  of  Elsa's  voice  floated  up  and 
wandered  away  among  the  cottage  rafters, 
"  Bravo"  I  cried  her  father;  "  bravo,  little 
one !  Already  thou  singest  like  the  April 
cuckoo!"  Elsa,  the  little  Finnish  girl  thus  ad- 

27 


28  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

dressed,  smiled  with  pleasure,  and  nestled  closer 
to  her  father's  reindeer  coat  as  he  proudly  pat 
ted  her  fair  hair  and  gave  her  an  approving 
hug. 

The  two  were  sitting  on  a  rude  bench  drawn 
out  from  the  cottage  wall ;  and  here  they  had 
been  all  the  evening,  singing  snatches  of 
strange  old  songs,  and  toasting  their  toes  at  the 
turf  fire  that  blazed  in  the  great  fireplace. 

It  was  barely  September,  but  in  the  far 
North,  the  winter  begins  early  and  the  winds 
sweep  with  a  bitter  chill  across  the  wide  plains 
of  Suomi,  the  old  name  by  which  the  Finnish 
people  love  best  to  call  their  land. 

Elsa's  father  and  mother — the  mother  was 
now  drowsing  over  her  knitting,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  hearth — were  well-to-do  peasant 
farmer  folk.  They  owned  the  land,  called 
from  their  name  the  "  Sveaborg  farm,"  and 
the  cottage,  which  was  large  of  its  kind ;  that 
is  to  say,  it  had  two  rooms  besides  the  great 
living-room  and  the  loft. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  29 

One  of  these  extra  rooms,  however,  was  set 
apart  for  the  use  of  occasional  travelers ;  for  in 
Finland,  through  the  country,  inns  of  any  kind 
are  very  few,  and  at  that  time,  as  now,  certain 
of  the  better  farm-houses  were  set  apart  as 
places  where  travelers  might  be  sure  of  enter 
tainment  for  the  night  at  least.  As  Elsa's  home 
lay  on  one  of  the  main  roads,  the  cottage  now 
and  then  sheltered  one  of  the  few  strangers 
who  sometimes  journey  through  the  land. 

The  other  little  chamber  belonged  to  Elsa,  who 
was  the  only  child  ;  but  the  main  business  of  liv 
ing  was  carried  on  in  the  great  room  with  the 
hearth.  It  was  a  quaint  place,  broad  and  low  ; 
the  walls  were  covered  with  a  rough  plaster,  and 
overhead  the  rafters  showed  brown  with  smoke ; 
just  below  these  were  fastened  two  slender  poles 
from  one  of  which  hung  festoons  of  dried  herbs, 
while  on  the  other  were  strung  a  great  number 
of  large  flat  brown  rings,  which  were  nothing 
less  than  the  family  bread  for  the  winter.  For 
the  Finnish  peasants  do  not  trouble  themselves 


30  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

to  bake  too  often,  and  they  like  their  bread 
made  into  these  curious  ring-shaped  loaves 
which  they  thus  hang  away  until  needed  ;  nor 
do  they  mind  how  hard  and  dry  it  becomes. 

On  one  side  of  the  cottage  walls  were  several 
large  presses  where  cheeses  were  making  ;  and 
opposite  these  were  two  little  doors  that  seemed 
to  open  into  cupboards  ;  cupboards,  however, 
where  no  Finnish  child  would  ever  think  of 
looking  for  jam  or  sweetmeats,  for,  as  is  the 
custom  of  the  country,  behind  the  doors  were 
fastened  in  the  thick  wall  two  shelf-like  beds, 
where  Elsa's  father  and  mother  slept. 

But  the  chief  feature,  the  heart  of  all  the 
room,  was  the  great  fireplace  ;  at  one  side  of  it 
was  built  a  huge  brick  oven,  in  which  Elsa's 
mother  baked  the  queer  flat-bread  for  the  family, 
and  sometimes,  when  the  nights  were  very,  very 
cold,  she  would  make  for  Elsa  a  little  bed  on 
top  of  the  warm  bricks,  which  was  always  so 
cozy  that  the  little  girl  did  not  care  that  it  was  a 
trifle  hard. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  31 

The  broad  hearth  in  front  of  the  oven  was 
also  of  brick,  and  this  hearth,  as  in  every  peas 
ant's  cottage,  was  the  favorite  gathering  place. 
Here  through  the  long  winter  evenings,  and 
days  when  the  sun  barely  peeped  above  the 
horizon,  they  loved  to  sit  and  sing  over  their 
quaint  old  songs  and  repeat  in  verse  the  strange 
and  beautiful  stories  that  have  been  handed 
down  in  Finland  for  hundreds,  perhaps  thou 
sands,  of  years. 

Indeed,  all  Finnish  peasants  have  always  been 
wonderfully  fond  of  music  and  poetry,  and,  to 
this  day,  as  in  Elsa's  time — which  was  nearly  a 
hundred  years  ago — in  almost  every  house  may 
be  found  at  least  one  of  the  curious  harps  of 
ancient  shape,  which  the  people  make  for  them 
selves  out  of  bone  or  wood.  There  are  but  few 
peasants  who  can  not  sing  some  old  story  to  the 
music  of  this  instrument  which  they  call  "  kan- 
tele." 

Elsa's  father  was  an  especially  skilful  harper, 
and  Els  a  herself  seemed  to  inherit  a  large  part  of 


32  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

his  passion  for  music  and  poetry.  He  had  made 
for  her  a  little  kantele  of  her  own,  and  to  the  soft 
weird  music  she  struck  from  its  strings,  she  sang 
her  little  song, 

1  Eery,  airy, 
Elf  and  fairy. 

These  lines,  however,  were  but  the  beginning 
of  a  song  intended  to  charm  and  overpower  the 
wicked  water-witches;  for,  as  all  the  world  knows, 
Finland  is  the  home  of  all  manner  of  fairy  folk, 
of  elves  and  gnomes  and  wizards  and  witches ; 
at  least  so  all  Finnish  folk  declare ;  and  innu 
merable  are  the  charm-songs  and  incanta 
tions  and  marvelous  tales  handed  down  from 
generation  to  generation,  telling  of  the  witches 
and  fairies  of  Suomi. 

Elsa  knew  a  great  number  of  these  song- 
stories  and  delighted  above  all  things  to  learn  a 
new  one.  But,  as  she  sat  by  the  fire,  the 
warmth  at  last  made  her  drowsy ;  presently  the 
harp  fell  from  her  hands,  and  still  leaning  against 
her  father  she  dropped  into  a  sound  sleep. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  33 

The  next  morning  was  crisp  and  frosty,  but 
the  sun,  rising  in  a  strange  slanting  ring,  tem 
pered  the  September  chill  almost  to  mildness. 
Indeed  the  sun  behaves  very  oddly  in  Finland  ; 
it  was  then  circling  round  the  sky  in  its  autumn 
course,  never  setting,  as  in  our  country,  but 
staying  up  a  little  way  all  night,  and  all  the 
while  weaving  its  spiral  rings  lower  and  lower 
down  the  sky.  By  and  by  it  would  hide  alto 
gether  and  not  show  itself  for  many  weeks.  So 
while  the  light  lasted  every  one  was  making  the 
most  of  it. 

Elsa  was  astir  early ;  breakfast  had  long  been 
over  ;  she  had  swept  the  house  with  the  broom 
of  birch  twigs,  and  was  now  outside  the  cottage 
helping  her  mother  churn. 

As  she  pushed  the  wooden  dasher  up  and 
down,  the  wind  blew  the  color  into  her  cheeks 
and  her  hair  about  her  face.  She  wore  a  close 
little  woolen  hood,  a  homespun  dress  and  a 
long  apron  embroidered  in  bright  colors,  and 
on  her  feet  were  wooden  shoes. 


34  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

All  at  once  Elsa's  quick  ears  caught  the 
sound  of  wheels. 

"See,  mother!"  she  exclaimed,  "there  is 
Jan  of  the  Ohlsen  farm;  but  who,  thinkest  thou, 
is  the  stranger  beside  him  ? ' ' 

Fru  Sveaborg  shaded  her  eyes  with  her  hand, 
and  sure  enough,  saw,  jogging  up  the  road,  a 
pony  dragging  one  of  the  odd  two-wheeled 
carts  of  Finland.  As  she  looked,  it  turned  into 
the  narrow  lane  of  birch  trees  leading  to  the 
cottage. 

Jan  drew  rein. 

"Good  morrow,  neighbor  Sveaborg!"  he 
called  out. 

Then  as  the  Fru  left  her  churn  and  came  toward 
them,  he  said : 

"This  traveler  is  Herr  Lonnrot,  from  Hel- 
singfors,  who  is  journeying  through  the  country. 
Last  night  he  passed  at  our  farm  and  to-night 
he  would  spend  at  thine.  He  wishes  much  to 
speak  with  peasant  Sveaborg  about  certain  mat 
ters  he  is  seeking  to  learn."  Then  catching 


THE  LOST  RUNE  35 

sight  of  Elsa,  "Good  morrow  to  thee,  Elsa! 
How  comes  the  churning?  It  hath  made  thy 
cheeks  red  as  cloud-berries  !  " 

Elsa  shyly  drew  near  her  mother,  as  the  lat 
ter  greeted  Jan,  and,  courtesying  to  the  stranger, 
assured  him  of  a  welcome  at  their  home. 

Jan  then  jumped  from  the  cart  to  help  Herr 
Lonnrot,  who  was  an  old  man.  He  had  a 
gentle  face  with  kindly  blue  eyes,  and  his  hair 
and  beard  were  gray.  He  was  wrapped  in  a 
long  traveling  cloak,  and  walked  with  a  staff. 
As  Fru  Sveaborg  led  the  way  to  the  cottage 
door  he  coughed  slightly  and  drew  his  cloak 
closer  about  him. 

Within  the  living-room,  the  Fru  hastened  to 
set  before  them  fresh  milk  and  bread,  and  then 
she  and  Jan  gossiped  a  while  over  farm  matters, 
while  the  stranger,  who  seemed  weary,  went  to 
rest  in  the  little  guest  chamber,  which  was 
always  in  readiness  for  travelers. 

In  the  afternoon,  as  Elsa  sat  by  the  fireplace 
spinning,  Herr  Lonnrot  came  into  the  room, 


36  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

and  seating  himself  on  the  bench,  began  to 
talk  to  her. 

"Art  very  busy,  little  one?"  he  said  ;  "canst 
thou  not  sing  a  song  for  an  old  man?  I  trow 
yonder  tiny  kantele  fits  thy  fingers  as  if  fash 
ioned  for  them  !  " 

"Aye,  sir,"  answered  Elsa  shyly,  "if  thou 
really  wishest,  I  will  sing  the  little  charm-song 
I  have  just  learned." 

With  this  she  took  the  kantele,  and  drawing 
a  wooden  stool  beside  the  bench  began  to  sing. 
Though  her  voice  rose  somewhat  timidly  at 
first,  presently  she  lost  herself  in  the  music  and 
poetry,  and  sang  many  of  the  strange  Finnish 
songs. 

As  Herr  Lonnrot  listened  to  the  little  girl  his 
eyes  brightened  and  he  smiled  with  pleasure  ; 
and  when,  by  and  by,  she  ceased,  he  drew  her 
to  his  side  and  stroked  her  hair. 

He  then  questioned  her  carefully  about  the 
songs  that  she  and  her  father  knew,  and  told 


THE  LOST  RUNE  37 

her  that  he  himself  was  even  then  traveling 
through  Finland  for  the  express  purpose  of 
gathering  together  all  the  songs  of  the  peasant 
folk,  though  not  so  much  for  the  music  as  for 
the  sake  of  the  words,  which  he  was  most 
anxious  to  learn.  He  told  her  further,  how, 
for  many  years,  the  great  scholars  of  Finland 
had  been  certain  that  a  great  and  wonderfully 
beautiful  song-story,  a  story  of  heroes  and  wiz 
ards  and  fairies,  had  become  broken  up  and 
scattered  among  the  people,  just  as  if  some 
beautiful  stained-glass  window  should  come  to 
pieces,  and  the  different  fragments  fall  into  the 
hands  of  many  different  persons,  and  be  scat 
tered  about  so  that  no  one  could  make  out  the 
first  picture  unless  all  the  pieces  could  be  found 
and  fitted  together  again. 

Now  the  song-story,  Herr  Lonnrot  said,  was 
made  up  ages  before ;  long  before  people  had 
paper  or  pens  with  which  to  write.  So  the 
story  had  been  handed  down  from  parents  to 


38  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

their  children,  who  sang  it  from  year  to  year 
simply  from  memory  •  for  people  had  wonder 
ful  memories  in  those  days. 

It  had  begun  so  very  long  ago,  however, 
and  the  whole  story  was  so  long,  that  the  peas 
ant  folk  had  gradually  forgotten  parts  of  it ;  in 
some  families  one  part  or  rune,  as  the  people 
called  it,  would  be  handed  down  from  genera 
tion  to  generation,  and  in  others,  some  other 
part. 

Now  Herr  Lonnrot  was  a  physician  of  much 
learning,  and  aside  from  his  work  of  healing 
the  sick,  he  had  a  great  fondness  for  beautiful 
stories.  He  had  spent  much  time  among  the 
peasants  especially  to  learn  such  parts  of  the 
lost  song-story  as  they  might  happen  to  know, 
and  was  now  devoting  his  old  age  to  gathering 
up  as  many  as  possible  of  these  runes. 

And  then,  he  told  Elsa,  he  intended  to  fit 
them  together  and  write  them  down  so  that  none 
should  ever  again  be  forgotten,  and  so  that  the 


THE  LOST  RUNE  39 

whole  world  might  read  this  great  Finnish 
story. 

"Ah,"  said  Herr  Lonnrot,  with  kindling 
eyes,  "every  one  who  has  love  for  old  Fin 
land  should  help  save  this  wonderful  song, 
for  'twill  be  to  the  glory  of  our  nation,  even  as 
the  songs  of  Homer  have  been  to  the  glory  of 
the  Greeks  !  " 

And  in  this  Herr  Lonnrot  spoke  what  is  per 
fectly  true :  for  all  wise  persons  know  that  to 
add  a  beautiful  poem  or  song  or  story  to  the 
collection  that  every  nation  gradually  makes  up 
for  itself,  is  rightly  considered  a  far  more  glori 
ous  thing  than  to  discover  a  whole  mountain  of 
gold  and  diamonds.  And  so  the  Herr  wished 
greatly  to  find  and  restore  this  beautiful  scat 
tered  story  to  the  poetic  wealth  of  Finland  and 
of  the  world. 

He  then  went  on  to  explain  to  Elsa  that  the 
scholars  found  these  songs  to  cluster  about  three 
ancient  heroes,  and  of  these,  one,  the  mighty 


40  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

wizard  Wainamoinen,  was  the  most  powerful 
of  all. 

Here  Elsa,  who  had  been  listening  atten 
tively,  smiled. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  "I  know  many  songs  of 
Wainamoinen  and  the  rest." 

"Of  that  I  am  sure,"  said  Herr  Lonnrot; 
"but  there  is  one  rune  that  tells  of  the  birth  of 
the  harp  :  how  Wainamoinen  fashioned  the  first 
kantele  from  the  bones  of  a  magic  fish,  and 
how  he  sang  with  such  marvelous  sweetness  that 
all  living  things  drew  near  to  harken  to  him. 
Of  this  rune  I  have  heard  many  peasant-sing 
ers  speak,  but  have  sought  in  vain  for  one  who 
can  teach  me  the  whole  of  it.  And  I  must  find 
it  before  I  can  complete  the  story  !  " 

Here  Herr  Lonnrot  sighed,  and  dropping  his 
head  upon  his  breast  seemed  lost  in  thought. 
Presently  a  fit  of  coughing  seized  him ;  and 
then  he  continued : 

"Dost  think,  little  one,  that  thy  father  knows 
aught  of  this  rune?  " 


THE  LOST  RUNE  41 

Elsa  thought  very  hard  trying  to  recall  the 
rune ;  she  was  obliged  to  answer : 

"Nay,  sir;  in  truth  he  hath  taught  me  many 
runes  about  Wainamoinen  and  the  others,  but 
I  know  not  how  the  harp  was  born.  But," 
she  added,  "my  father  will  be  home  at  supper- 
time  ;  he  is  helping  thatch  neighbor  Friedvic's 
new  barn,  and  perhaps  he  can  tell  thee ! " 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Herr  Lonnrot.  "Thy  neigh 
bor  Jan  told  me  he  thought  thy  father  knew 
something  of  this  rune  I  seek." 

Even  as  they  talked,  a  whistle  sounded  with 
out,  and  Elsa  clapped  her  hands  joyously. 

"There  is  my  father  now!"  and  bounding 
to  the  door  she  flung  it  wide  open.  As  the 
peasant  Sveaborg  stepped  within,  seeing  Herr 
Lonnrot,  he  took  off  his  cap  and  greeted  him 
kindly,  for  strangers  were  always  welcome  at 
the  Sveaborg  farm. 

When  the  Herr  told  him  why  he  was  jour 
neying  through  the  country,  and  of  the  lost 


42  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

rune  he  was  seeking,  Elsa's  father  grew  much 
interested. 

"  The  birth  of  the  harp  1  Ah,  sir,"  said  he, 
"  I  know  not  the  whole  rune  myself,  but  I  know 
of  a  peasant  who  does.  I  have  heard  him  sing 
it,  and  truly  'tis  of  marvelous  beauty !  But  he 
is  very  aged,  and  odd,  sir" — here  peasant 
Sveaborg  tapped  his  forehead  meaningly — ' '  and 
will  teach  it  to  no  one  else.  Even  now,  I  have 
been  told,  he  is  very  ill,  and  like  to  die.  I  know 
not  if  thou  canst  learn  aught  from  him,  but  if 
thou  wishest,  I  will  take  thee  thither  to-mor 
row."  And  while  they  were  busy  arranging 
the  trip  for  the  morrow,  Fru  Sveaborg  came 
in,  and  with  Elsa's  help  soon  set  out  the  even 
ing  meal. 

As  they  ate  their  bowls  of  -pimea  or  sour 
milk,  which  is  the  chief  part  of  every  Finnish 
meal,  Herr  Lonnrot  entertained  them  with  won 
derful  stories  of  his  travels  and  news  of  the 
outside  world,  till  all  were  charmed ;  and  Elsa, 


THE  LOST  RUNE  43 

especially,  thought  him  the  most  delightful  trav 
eler  their  roof  had  ever  sheltered.  Her  admi 
ration  for  him  deepened  as  the  evening  wore 
on,  for  the  Herr,  though  evidently  in  feeble 
health  and  weary  from  his  journey,  yet  talked 
so  pleasantly  that  all  were  sorry  when  by  and 
by  he  bade  them  good  night. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  Herr  Lonn- 
rot  did  not  appear ;  but  the  family  did  not  think 
it  strange,  and  supposing  him  still  resting,  did 
not  disturb  him.  Fru  Sveaborg  placed  some 
breakfast  for  him  in  an  earthen  dish,  which  she 
set  in  the  oven  to  keep  warm.  Then  she  went 
about  her  work. 

But  as  the  morning  passed  on,  and  still  he 
did  not  come  from  his  chamber,  she  became 
uneasy,  and  sent  Elsa  to  tap  upon  his  door.  As 
Elsa  lightly  knocked,  the  door  swung  open,  for 
there  are  no  locks  in  Finland,  and  there  lay 
Herr  Lonnrot,  motionless,  on  the  floor  of  the 
room !  The  aged  physician  had  evidently 


44  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

arisen,  and  made  himself  ready  for  the  day, 
when,  overcome  by  weakness,  he  had  fallen  in 
a  swoon. 

Elsa,  thoroughly  frightened,  ran  to  the  living- 
room,  crying  out : 

"Mother  !  Mother !  Herr  Lonnrot  is  dying 1" 

At  this  the  Fru  hastened  in,  and  with  Elsa's 
help,  raised  the  frail  old  man  and  placed  him 
on  a  bench ;  and  while  her  mother  did  what 
she  could  to  make  him  comfortable,  Elsa  hur 
ried  to  the  fields  to  send  her  father  for  the  vil 
lage  doctor. 

As  it  was  a  long  journey  to  the  village  it  was 
almost  nightfall  before  the  peasant  Sveaborg 
reached  home. 

Meantime  Herr  Lonnrot  had  passed  from  the 
swoon  into  a  high  fever,  and  all  day  his  mind 
had  wandered,  and  he  had  talked  strangely; 
sometimes  of  his  home  and  his  journey,  but 
more  often  of  the  lost  rune  of  the  magic  harp, 
which  seemed  to  trouble  him  sorely. 

At  last  the  doctor  came,  and  after  examining 


THE  LOST  RUNE  45 

his  patient,  said  that  he  was  suffering  from  the 
effects  of  a  serious  cold,  and  that  he  must  be 
kept  quiet  and  well  cared  for. 

Then  as  Herr  Lonnrot  continued  to  toss  and 
murmur,  the  doctor  asked  Fru  Sveaborg  if  she 
knew  of  aught  that  troubled  him.  As  the  Fru 
looked  perplexed,  Elsa  spoke. 

"The  rune,  mother  !  Hark  !  even  now  he  is 
speaking  of  it  I  " 

And  as  they  listened,  the  poor  Herr,  who 
had  not  the  least  notion  of  what  he  was  saying, 
exclaimed : 

"The  harp  !  Ah,  yes,  I  must  go  seek  it !  the 
magic  harp" — and  here  he  broke  off  into  low, 
unintelligible  words. 

At  this  the  doctor  looked  grave,  and  said 
that  it  was  a  pity  that  anything  seemed  to  be  on 
the  patient's  mind,  as  it  might  make  the  fever 
harder  to  overcome.  He  then  measured  out 
some  medicines,  and  took  his  leave,  after  giv 
ing  Fru  Sveaborg  directions  for  caring  for  the 
aged  patient. 


46  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

The  next  day,  under  the  faithful  nursing  of 
Elsa's  mother,  Herr  Lonnrot  seemed  better, 
though  still  very  weak,  and  when  the  doctor 
again  saw  him,  he  said  that  with  continued  good 
care  he  thought  all  would  go  well,  but  that  the 
Herr  must  not  think  of  going  on  with  his  jour 
ney  for  a  week,  at  least.  After  this  visit  from 
the  doctor,  Elsa's  father,  who  had  been  waiting 
at  home  in  case  he  should  be  needed,  told  Fru 
Sveaborg  that  he  must  go  to  finish  the  work 
he  was  doing  at  a  neighboring  farm,  and  as  it 
would  take  him  a  day  or  two,  he  would  stop  on 
the  way  and  send  the  Fru's  sister  to  help  her 
care  for  the  sick  stranger. 

When  her  father  was  gone,  and  her  mother 
busy  about  her  work,  Elsa  drew  out  her  wheel, 
and  as  she  sat  alone  spinning  as  hard  as  she 
could,  she  yet  found  time  to  think  of  a  great 
many  things.  She  thought  of  the  lost  rune  of 
the  birth  of  the  harp,  and  of  good  Herr  Lonn 
rot,  lying  on  his  bed  and  chafing  and  worrying 
with  every  hour  that  his  journey  was  delayed. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  47 

Then  she  thought  of  the  peasant  Ulricborg,  and 
of  what  her  father  had  told  of  his  reported  ill 
ness. 

"Ah",  said  she  to  herself,  "what  if  he  die 
before  Herr  Lonnrot  can  travel  thither !  Then 
the  rune  may  be  lost  forever,  and  dear  Herr 
Lonnrot  can  never,  never  finish  the  beautiful 
song-story !  "  The  more  she  thought  about  it, 
the  more  Elsa  became  convinced  that  some 
thing  should  be  done,  and  that  without  delay. 

She  turned  over  in  her  mind  a  great  many 
plans,  and  presently  an  idea  occurred  to  her 
that  made  her  smile  happily;  and,  jumping  up, 
she  ran  out  to  where  Fru  Sveaborg  was  arrang 
ing  her  milk-pans  in  the  sun. 

"Mother,"  said  Elsa,  "mother,  I  wish  to 
go  to  the  peasant  Ulricborg !  " 

"Why,  child,"  exclaimed  her  mother  in 
amazement,  "what  dost  thou  wish  with  the 
peasant  Ulricborg?  ': 

"  I  wish  to  learn  from  him  the  lost  rune,  so 
that  Herr  Lonnrot  can  finish  the  beautiful  song- 


48  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

story!  He  may  die  before  the  Herr  can  see 
him!" 

"But,"  protested  her  mother,  "thou  canst 
not  go  alone,  and  thy  father  is  too  busy  to  go 
with  thee  now." 

"But,  mother,"  said  Elsa,  "'tis  no  such 
great  journey;  thou  knowest  I  went  thither 
once  with  father  in  the  sleigh  two  years  ago, 
and  truly  it  seemed  not  f ar ! "  Elsa  did  not 
realize  how  swiftly  a  sleigh  will  speed  over  many, 
many  miles.  "  I  shall  meet  carts  on  the  way, 
and  I  can  stop  at  the  Ringstrom  farm  to-night." 

Now  Fru  Sveaborg  was  a  simple  soul  who 
had  never  been  far  beyond  her  own  home,  and 
as  the  child  pleaded  so  earnestly  to  go,  at  last 
she  consented,  although  somewhat  against  her 
will. 

Elsa  was  overjoyed,  and  at  once  made  her 
little  preparations  to  start.  She  got  a  small 
basket  of  birch  bark  and  in  it  her  mother  placed 
some  black  bread  and  cheese,  a  few  herrings 
and  a  bottle  of  milk.  Then  putting  on  hei 


THE  LOST  RUNE  49 

thick  woolen  cloak  and  hood,  and  taking  her 
kantele  in  one  hand  and  the  basket  in  the 
other,  off  she  started. 

Fru  Sveaborg  bade  her  good  by.  "  Be  care 
ful,  child!  "  she  said;  "keep  to  the  high-road, 
and  be  sure  to  stay  to-night  at  the  Ringstrom 
farm!" 

"Good  by,  mother! "  Elsa  called  back,  "and 
do  not  fear  for  me ;  I  know  the  way  I " 

With  this  she  tripped  down  the  lane  of  birch 
trees  and  turned  into  the  road  to  the  east.  By 
and  by  she  was  overtaken  by  a  little  Finland 
pony  trundling  along  a  two-wheeled  cart.  As 
the  driver  of  the  cart  happened  to  be  a  young 
boy  she  knew,  she  was  glad  to  climb  in  beside 
him.  They  rode  thus  for  a  number  of  miles  till 
they  reached  a  cross-road  where  Elsa's  friend 
told  her  he  must  turn  off ;  so  she  jumped  out, 
and  thanking  him  for  her  ride,  bade  him  good 
by  and  trudged  on  along  the  highway. 

Presently  she  began  to  feel  hungry,  for  it 
was  long  past  noon,  and  looking  about,  she 


50  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

saw  a  pretty  tuft  of  green  moss  under  a  tall 
birch  tree ;  and  sitting  down,  she  opened  her 
basket  and  ate  some  of  the  contents.  She 
thought  she  would  rest  a  little  while  before 
going  on,  so  she  wrapped  her  cloak  close  about 
her  and  leaned  back  against  the  birch  tree, — 
till — by  and  by — her  eyes  began  to  blink 
and  blink,  and  before  she  knew  it  the  little 
girl  was  sound  asleep. 

She  did  not  know  how  long  she  slept,  but 
at  length,  just  in  the  midst  of  a  beautiful  dream 
about  magic  fishes  and  harps  and  wizards,  she 
gave  a  shiver  and  waked  up. 

She  rubbed  her  eyes  for  a  minute,  and  invol 
untarily  drew  her  cloak  closer,  for  it  had  grown 
chilly. 

At  first,  as  Elsa  gazed  around,  she  thought 
she  must  still  be  asleep  and  dreaming  of  cloud- 
land  1  But  presently  she  realized  that  she  was 
not  in  the  clouds,  but  in  the  midst  of  a  dense 
fog,  such  as  often  comes  up  in  Finland  without 


THE  LOST  RUNE  51 

warning,  and  covers  up  the  fields  and  woods 
as  completely  as  any  cloud  might  do. 

Now,  being  a  Finnish  child,  Elsa's  first 
thought  was  of  the  hobgoblins  and  prankish 
fairies  of  the  fog  who,  as  every  Finlander  knows, 
float  about  in  their  mantles  of  mist  seeking  to 
do  mischief  to  unwary  travelers. 

So  Elsa  at  once  began  to  sing  in  a  high,  clear 
voice  a  little  charm-song ;  not  the  one  she  had 
sung  in  the  farm  house  to  Herr  Lonnrot,  but  a 
song  intended  especially  to  ward  off  the  wicked 
fairies  of  the  fog.  It  began  like  this : 

Fogs  of  Finland, 

Floating  inland, 
From  the  fairy-haunted  sea, 

Have  a  care  now, 

See  ye  bear  now 
No  unfriendly  folk  to  me  I 

As  Elsa  sang  she  cautiously  stepped  along, 
she  knew  not  where;  till,  faintly  through  the 
thick  shrouding  mist,  there  came  the  soft  tinkle, 
tinkle  of  a  little  bell.  Listening,  she  knew  at 


52  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

once  that  it  must  be  fastened  to  the  collar  of 
some  cow,  for  such  bells  in  Finland  are  very 
sweet-toned  and  clear. 

Sure  enough,  in  a  little  while  she  heard  the 
trampling  of  hoofs,  and  the  whole  herd,  drawn 
by  the  sound  of  her  voice,  was  thronging  about 
her. 

But  Elsa  was  used  to  the  herds  on  her  father's 
farm,  and  was  really  glad  to  feel  the  warm 
breath  of  the  gentle  little  Finnish  cows.  As 
the  leader  came  close  to  her  she  put  up  her 
hand  and  patted  its  nose ;  then  slipping  her 
fingers  through  the  narrow  leathern  strap  from 
which  the  bell  hung,  she  walked  along  beside 
the  cow. 

This  proved  to  be  the  very  best  thing  she 
could  have  done ;  for  the  herd  was  going  home, 
and  the  cows  seemed  to  know  their  way  in 
stinctively,  even  in  spite  of  the  white  fog. 

They  walked  thus  a  long  way,  till  after  a 
while  the  fog  began  to  lift  somewhat;  and 
though  it  was  growing  dusk  Elsa  could  distin- 


THE  LOST  RUNE  53 

guish  the  outline  of  a  comfortable-looking  farm 
house.  It  was  not  the  Ringstrom  farm,  where 
she  had  expected  to  pass  the  night,  but  a 
strange  place  that  she  had  never  before  seen. 
The  usual  lane  of  birch  trees  led  up  to  the 
house,  and  behind  it  was  a  long,  low  barn, 
whither  the  cows  seemed  to  be  directing  their 
way. 

As  she  walked  along  beside  them  she  was 
thinking  of  what  she  had  best  do,  and  she 
found  herself  very  much  perplexed.  In  truth 
she  had  set  out  upon  a  very  difficult  errand  for 
a  little  girl,  and  had  good  Fru  Sveaborg  had 
the  least  idea  of  the  distance  or  possible  dangers 
of  the  journey  she  never  would  have  given  her 
consent ;  while  had  Elsa's  father  been  at  home, 
— but  then  it  is  useless  thinking  things  might 
have  been  managed  differently.  Meanwhile 
there  was  Elsa  trudging  along  in  the  midst  of 
the  herd,  wondering  much  who  were  the  dwell 
ers  at  the  farm,  and,  on  the  whole,  not  a  little 
frightened. 


54  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

By  this  time  she  had  a  pretty  definite  idea  that 
she  had  started  on  a  rather  reckless  undertak 
ing,  and  she  fancied  that  perhaps  the  people  at 
the  farm  might  think  so  too,  and  would  not  al 
low  her  to  go  farther;  and  as  she  was  deter 
mined  at  any  risk  to  reach  the  peasant  Ulricborg 
and  save  the  rune,  she  decided  at  last  that  she 
would  not  go  to  the  house. 

So  she  kept  with  the  herd,  and  when  the  cows 
reached  the  door  of  the  great  barn,  she  slipped 
in  between  them,  unseen  in  the  fog  and  gather-, 
ing  dusk ;  for  though  the  sun  would  not  quite 
disappear,  it  hung  low  and  dim  on  the  horizon 
and  shed  but  faint  light  through  the  misty  air. 
Within,  the  barn  was  arranged  much  like  the  one 
at  her  home,  though  on  a  far  larger  scale.  In 
one  corner  was  a  large  pile  of  soft  sweet-smell 
ing  hay,  and  going  to  this  Elsa  set  down  her 
basket  and  kantele,  and  curled  herself  up  for 
the  night. 

As  she  looked  about  through  half-shut,  sleepy 
eyes,  she  saw  in  the  center  of  the  wide  earthen 


THE  LOST  RUNE  55 

floor  a  stone  fireplace,  and  there  over  some 
blazing  fagots  stood  a  great  iron  kettle ;  beside 
it  two  ruddy-faced  girls  were  hard  at  work  stir 
ring  the  long  marsh  grass  that  was  boiling 
for  the  cows'  supper.  Elsa  would  have  very 
much  liked  to  make  herself  known  to  these 
girls,  for  she  was  used  to  doing  things  openly 
and  did  not  at  all  enjoy  hiding  there  in  the  cor 
ner  ;  but  then  she  thought  of  the  precious  rune 
and  the  possibility  that  they  might  stop  her  jour 
ney,  and  so  she  remained  quiet.  As  she  nestled 
down  in  the  soft,  warm  hay,  however,  she  thought 
to  herself  that  they  could  not  possibly  mind  hav 
ing  a  little  girl  sleep  in  it  for  just  one  night,  and 
so  reasoning  she  kept  on  drowsily  watching  the 
movements  of  the  two  girls. 

After  a  while  they  dipped  out  the  soft  food 
and  fed  the  cows;  and  then,  when  they  had 
milked  them,  one  of  the  girls  poured  out  a 
bowlful  of  new  milk  and  set  it  beside  the 
stone  hearth,  and  then  they  both  went  off  sing 
ing  toward  the  house. 


56  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

Now  Elsa  knew,  as  every  little  Finnish  farm 
girl  knows,  that  the  fresh  milk  was  set  there  for 
the  fairies ;  for  should  any  roving  band  of  elfin 
people  chance  to  wander  thither,  they  might  be 
vexed  and  do  mischief  if  they  did  not  find  a 
fresh,  sweet  draft  awaiting  them.  So  Elsa  felt 
quite  safe,  sure  that  the  fairies  would  not  trouble 
her ;  and,  by  and  by,  lulled  by  the  soft  breath 
ing  of  the  cows,  she  fell  asleep. 

Very  early  in  the  morning  she  awoke,  and 
though  at  first  much  bewildered,  she  soon  re 
membered  everything,  and  determined  to  slip 
away  before  any  one  should  find  her. 

So  fastening  her  cloak  and  taking  her  little 
belongings,  she  again  set  forth.  As  she  stepped 
out  in  the  early  morning  light,  a  white  frost 
glittered  over  the  fields;  and  as  she  gazed 
around  seeking  the  road,  she  saw  a  faintly- 
marked  path  that  seemed  to  lead  to  the  high 
way.  She  made  a  little  breakfast  from  the 
things  she  found  in  her  basket,  and  then  walked 
on ;  but  the  path,  instead  of  leading  to  the  high- 


THE  LOST  RUNE  57 

road,  took  her  farther  and  farther  from  it,  for 
she  did  not  know  that  the  farm  whither  the  cows 
had  led  her  was  a  long  distance  from  the  way 
she  wished  to  follow. 

Indeed  Elsa  was  lost ;  and  as  she  went  on 
the  country  grew  wilder  and  more  rugged. 
Before  she  knew  it  the  path  had  disappeared 
altogether  and  she  could  find  no  trace  of  it ; 
and  as  far  as  she  could  see,  there  was  no  living 
being  near. 

All  the  while  she  was  becoming  more  and 
more  frightened,  yet  still  bravely  she  went  on, 
vainly  seeking  the  road.  Before  long  she  came 
to  a  dense  wood  of  firs,  and  thinking  that  per 
haps  the  way  lay  just  beyond,  she  slowly  en 
tered  the  forest,  stepping  timidly  between  the 
dark  resinous  trees.  Once  or  twice  she  trem 
bled  as  a  fox  crossed  her  path,  but,  by  and  by, 
as  she  looked  ahead,  her  heart  fairly  stood  still 
with  terror.  For  there  in  the  distance,  where 
a  great  ledge  of  rocks  cropped  out  of  the 
ground,  she  saw  a  large  brown  something ;  and 


58  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

the  more  she  looked  the  more  certain  she  felt 
that  it  was  a  bear. 

And  true  enough,  it  was  a  bear,  "  honey- 
paw,"  as  Elsa  would  have  said,  for  so  the  Fin- 
landers  call  the  brown  bear,  because  of  his  great 
liking  for  wild  honey.  Now,  as  it  happened, 
this  particular  honey-paw  was  for  the  time  so 
intent  upon  his  own  affairs  that  at  first  he  did 
not  see  Elsa.  He  was  walking  carefully  round 
and  round  the  great  mass  of  rock,  hunting  a 
good  spot  where  he  might  curl  up,  bear  fashion, 
and  sleep  through  the  coming  winter.  He  had 
been  looking  at  these  rocks  for  many  days,  as 
is  the  custom  of  bears,  trying  to  decide  which  of 
the  little  caves  they  offered  would  suit  him  best 
for  his  long  sleep ;  and  he  was  still  perplexed 
about  it  when  he  happened  to  look  in  Elsa's  di 
rection. 

The  little  girl  was  standing  still,  frozen  with 
terror,  when  he  saw  her.  Perhaps  he  would 
not  have  noticed  her  had  it  not  been  for  the 
red  hood  she  wore,  which,  of  course,  could  be 


THE  LOST  RUNE  59 

seen  for  a  long  distance.  When  honey-paw 
realized,  however,  that  some  one  was  looking  at 
him,  he  was  greatly  displeased ;  for  when  bears 
are  selecting  their  winter  hiding  places  they  like 
to  keep  the  matter  as  secret  as  possible.  So 
with  a  little  growl  of  resentment  he  started  to 
ward  her.  At  this  Elsa  uttered  a  scream  and, 
dropping  her  basket,  took  to  her  heels,  running 
as  fast  as  she  could,  she  knew  not  whither. 
The  bear  followed,  at  an  awkward  pace,  but 
when  he  came  up  and  sniffed  at  her  basket  she 
was  already  far  in  the  distance. 

As  good  fortune  would  have  it,  in  her  wild 
flight  Elsa  had  come  to  the  edge  of  one  of  the 
great  bogs  that  cover  so  large  a  part  of  Finland, 
and  her  light  steps  had  taken  her  some  distance 
over  its  uncertain  surface.  On  she  went, 
springing  lightly  from  tussock  to  tussock  of  the 
coarse  grass,  till  at  last  she  reached  a  little  space 
of  firmer  ground,  and  sank  down,  exhausted, 
upon  the  fallen  trunk  of  a  willow  tree. 

Meantime  honey-paw  also  had  come  to  the 


60  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

edge  of  the  bog,  but  after  a  few  cautious  steps 
had  found  himself  too  heavy  to  gain  a  foothold 
on  the  soft  ground,  so  with  another  sniff  or  two 
he  turned  about  and  trotted  off. 

When  Elsa  saw  him  going  away,  she  was  so 
worn  out  with  fright,  and  so  very  tired,  that 
she  did  just  what  any  other  little  girl  would 
have  done :  she  began  to  cry,  and  cried  and 
cried  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  She  sat 
there  sobbing  a  long  time,  and  was  quite  sure 
she  would  have  to  stay  in  that  little  spot  the 
rest  of  her  life,  till  the  wicked  bog  witches  found 
her  or  the  bears  ate  her  up;  for  she  did  not 
think  she  could  ever  venture  on  alone. 

Indeed  she  cried  so  hard  that  she  did  not 
notice  that  she  was  quite  near  the  bank  of  a 
good-sized  river  that  flowed  to  the  east,  nor  did 
she  know  that  after  a  while  a  large  flat-boat 
drifted  in  sight.  It  was  laden  with  a  great 
number  of  bark-bound  barrels,  and  on  the  deck 
a  man  stood  guiding  the  boat  with  a  long  pole. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  61 

As  it  floated  slowly  along,  the  boatman  saw 
Elsa,  and  called  out  in  surprise. 

"Ho,  little  one!  what  dost  thou  in  yonder 
bog?  Art  lost?  "  When  Elsa  heard  him,  she 
quickly  looked  up,  and  begged  piteously  that 
he  take  her  away  from  that  dangerous  spot  I 

"That  will  I  do  right  gladly,"  said  he;  and 
directing  her  how  to  reach  the  bank  in  safety, 
he  guided  his  boat  to  land  and  then  helped 
Elsa  aboard. 

He  gave  her  a  little  box  on  which  to  sit,  and 
told  her  that  the  heavy  barrels  arranged  in 
rows  in  the  boat  were  filled  with  turpentine 
which  he  was  floating  down  the  river  from  the 
pine  woods  farther  inland.  Then  looking  curi 
ously  at  Elsa,  who  sat  there  still  tightly  holding 
her  little  kantele,  which  she  had  unconsciously 
kept  through  her  flight  from  honey-paw,  he 
said : 

"But  who  art  thou,  little  one?" 

The  man  had  a  good  face  and  a  kindly  man- 


62  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

ner  that  quite  reassured  Elsa,  who,  now  that  her 
fear  of  the  bear  was  relieved,  had  begun  to 
wonder  who  her  companion  might  be.  When 
she  told  him  her  name,  "Ah,"  he  exclaimed, 
"  I  know  thy  father  well  1  But  whither  art 
thou  going  all  by  thyself?  " 

When  Elsa  told  him  of  her  journey  to  the 
peasant  Ulricborg,  he  looked  astonished,  but 
told  her  to  have  no  fear,  as  he  would  see  her 
safely  to  the  Ulricborg  home,  which  was  down 
the  very  river  on  which  they  were  floating,  and 
at  no  great  distance  from  the  bank. 

As  the  boat  glided  along  Elsa's  new  friend  be 
guiled  the  time  by  telling  her  of  the  great  pine 
forests  whence  he  had  come,  and  explaining  how 
the  pitch  and  turpentine  were  harvested.  After 
a  while  when  he  asked  if  she  would  sing  him  a 
little  song,  she  gladly  assented;  and  striking 
the  strings  of  her  little  harp,  she  sang  a  Fin 
nish  boat-song,  her  voice  ringing  out  clear  and 
sweet  on  the  frosty  air,  through  which  some  big 
snowflakes  were  beginning  to  fall.  She  had 


THE  LOST  RUNE  63 

scarcely  finished  her  song  when  she  noticed  that 
they  were  no  longer  in  the  center  of  the  stream, 
but  that  the  boatman  was  deftly  turning  his 
craft  sidewise  and  guiding  it  toward  the  bank. 

In  a  few  minutes  he  had  made  it  fast  to  a  stout 
oak  tree  that  grew  near  the  water's  edge,  and 
then  helping  Elsa  out,  he  took  her  hand  and 
led  her  up  a  narrow  path  between  tall  grasses 
and  yellowing  willows ;  then  turning  into  a 
lane  they  came  toward  a  small  weather-beaten 
house  standing  in  the  midst  of  a  little  group  of 
fir  trees.  The  door  stood  open,  and  a  short 
distance  from  the  house  they  spied  a  bent  old 
woman  gathering  pine  cones  in  the  forest  close 
by.  She  had  her  apron  filled,  and  presently, 
turning  around  and  seeing  her  visitors,  she 
straightened  herself  as  best  she  could  and  came 
toward  them  with  greetings.  As  she  drew 
near,  Elsa  saw  that  her  face  was  withered  and 
wrinkled,  and  her  hands  brown  with  toil. 

"Good  morrow,  Dame  Ulricborg  ! "  said  the 
boatman,  "and  how  fares  thygoodman  to-day?" 


64  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

"Ah,"  answered  the  dame,  "he  is  very  weak 
and  grows  more  feeble  every  day.  This  twelve 
month  past  he  hath  scarce  left  his  bed,  and  'tis 
weary  work  for  an  old  woman  to  keep  the  ket 
tle  boiling  and  the  thatch  mended  over  our 
heads." 

"True,"  said  the  boatman,  sympathetically, 
"thou  hast  done  well,  Dame  Ulricborg !"  Then 
looking  down  at  Elsa,  he  added:  "Here  is  a  lit 
tle  girl  come  to  see  thee." 

The  old  dame  looked  curiously  at  Elsa ;  then, 
as  the  latter  held  up  her  little  skirt  and  asked 
the  dame  if  she  might  not  help  carry  the  cones, 
she  grew  more  kindly  and  led  the  way  to  the 
house.  But  the  boatman,  seeing  Elsa  thus  safe 
at  her  journey's  end,  bade  them  good  by  and 
hastened  back  to  his  boat. 

Now,  Dame  Ulricborg  very  much  wondered 
what  the  little  girl  could  possibly  wish  with  her ; 
but  as  it  is  considered  unkind  to  question  a  guest 
as  to  his  coming,  she  said  nothing,  but  waited 
for  Eisa  to  make  known  her  errand. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  65 

As  they  drew  near  the  door  of  the  house, 
Elsa  hastened  to  explain  to  her  how  she  had 
come,  and  how  she  hoped  to  learn  the  rune 
from  the  lips  of  the  aged  peasant  Ulricborg. 
At  this  the  old  woman,  who  had  listened  atten 
tively,  shook  her  head. 

"Ah,  little  one,"  said  she,  "thou  little  know- 
est  how  feeble  he  hath  grown !  He  hath 
strange  fancies,  too,  and  I  doubt  if  he  will  wish 
to  let  thee  learn  it.  He  hath  never  been  will 
ing  to  teach  it  to  any  one.  But,"  she  added, 
"thou  canst  at  least  ask,  if  thou  wishest." 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  threshold 
of  Dame  Ulricborg' s  home,  and  stepped  within. 
The  house  was  bare,  but  not  uncomfortable; 
some  rings  of  flat-bread  hung  from  the  ceiling ; 
there  was  a  spinning-wheel,  two  or  three  benches, 
and,  on  the  wall  over  the  fireplace,  a  kantele. 

The  dame  told  Elsa  to  draw  one  of  the 
benches  near  the  fire  and  warm  herself,  while 
she  went  into  the  next  room  to  see  how  her  sick 


66  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

husband  fared,  as  she  had  been  obliged  to  leave 
him  all  alone  when  she  went  to  gather  the  cones. 

By  and  by  the  dame  came  back,  and  shak 
ing  her  head  sadly,  said  to  Elsa : 

"  Nay,  to-day  'tis  useless;  his  thoughts  are 
wandering  and  he  will  notice  nothing.  'Tis 
often  so  when  he  grows  overweary.  But  thou 
must  bide  the  night  with  us,  and  it  may  be  in 
the  morning  he  will  be  better." 

So  Elsa  helped  Dame  Ulricborg  build  up  the 
fire  till  it  blazed  brightly  with  the  crackling  res 
inous  cones,  and  then  as  the  afternoon  waned, 
she  made  herself  useful  in  many  little  ways  as 
they  set  out  their  simple  evening  meal. 

Elsa  thought  no  -pimea  and  black  bread  had 
ever  tasted  quite  so  good,  for  she  was  very 
hungry  after  her  long  day,  and  Dame  Ulricborg 
smiled  at  her  enjoyment.  Indeed  by  the  time 
Elsa  crept  into  the  queer  little  cupboard  bed 
that  the  dame  spread  for  her,  she  had  so  won 
the  latter's  heart  that  she  bent  over  and  kissed 
the  little  girl  with  a  pathetic  tenderness ;  for  it 


THE  LOST  RUNE  67 

had  been  a  long,  long  time  since  poor  old 
Dame  Ulricborg  had  had  any  young  life  about 
her.  Her  own  little  girl  had  slept  in  the  village 
churchyard  for  many  years. 

The  next  morning,  after  they  had  breakfasted 
together,  the  dame  told  Elsa  that  she  might 
see  peasant  Ulricborg,  who  seemed  somewhat 
brighter  with  the  new  day.  So  taking  Elsa  by 
the  hand  she  led  her  into  the  room  where  lay 
the  sick  peasant. 

He  looked  very  old  and  feeble  ;  his  hair  was 
white  as  snow,  and  his  thin  cheeks  drawn  into 
innumerable  wrinkles.  Elsa  went  timidly  over 
and  stood  by  his  bedside,  and  in  a  low  quiver 
ing  voice  she  made  known  her  request.  She 
told  him  of  Herr  Lonnrot's  labors  to  save  the 
beautiful  song-story  of  Wainamoinen,  and  of 
his  great  desire  to  learn  the  lost  rune  that  peas 
ant  Ulricborg  alone  knew ;  how  he  wished  to 
write  it  down,  so  that  it  might  never  again  be 
forgotten  and  that  all  the  world  might  enjoy  its 
beauty. 


68  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

As  she  spoke,  the  old  man  looked  at  her  with 
dim  blue  eyes,  and  seemed  to  listen  as  one  in  a 
dream.  When  she  ceased,  he  appeared  for  a 
moment  lost  in  thought ;  then  he  said  slowly 
and  dreamily : 

"Yes,  thou  shalt  learn  it,  Aino;  thou  shalt 
hear  of  the  birth  of  the  harp,  of  the  magic  fish  and 
of  the  mighty  hero  Wainamoinen,  little  Aino." 

"  'Tis  our  own  little  maid,  Aino,  that  we  lost 
so  long  ago  ! "  whispered  the  old  dame  to  Elsa, 
as  the  tears  streamed  down  her  face ;  "  thou  art 
so  like  her! " 

But  she  hushed  her  whisper,  as  suddenly  the 
old  peasant  began  to  sing  in  a  weak,  quavering 
voice  that  seemed  to  grow  stronger  as  he  sang, 
the  beautiful  lines  telling  how  the  ancient  Wain 
amoinen  fashioned  the  first  harp,  and  how  he 
sang  till  all  the  birds  forsook  their  nests,  the 
fishes  their  deep  sea  homes,  and  all  the  crea 
tures  of  the  woods,  nay,  the  very  trees  them 
selves,  trooped  forth  from  the  forests  that  they 
might  listen  to  his  enchanting  music. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  69 

As  Elsa  heard,  the  tears  came  into  her  own 
eyes,  for  she  was  a  poetic  little  soul  and  quickly 
touched  by  anything  beautiful.  When  the  peas 
ant  Ulricborg  had  almost  finished  the  rune,  he 
suddenly  broke  off  and  lay  back  on  his  pillow 
exhausted.  He  lay  for  so  long  a  while  with 
closed  eyes,  that  both  the  dame  and  Elsa  grew 
frightened ;  but  presently  he  again  looked  at 
them,  his  vision  becoming  brighter ;  in  a  little 
while  all  seemed  to  grow  clear  to  him.  He 
gazed  kindly  at  Elsa,  for  something  about  the 
little  girl  seemed  strangely  to  soften  the  old  man. 
He  noticed  her  little  kantele,  and  it  seemed  to 
interest  him,  as  he  motioned  her  to  lay  it  beside 
him.  He  looked  at  it  a  while,  and  tried  once 
or  twice  to  touch  its  strings  to  music,  but  his 
strength  failed  him. 

Presently,  he  said  feebly : 

"Ah,  I  thought  thou  wert  Aino  come  back 
for  me ! — but  never  mind — the  rune  thou  wish- 
est,  I  can  not  show  theeits  music  now," — here 
he  looked  sadly  at  his  stiffened  fingers, — "but 


70  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

the  rune  itself,  yes,  thou  shalt  have  it,  little 
one!"  Then  he  added  slowly,  as  he  gazed 
dreamily  into  Elsa's  shining  eyes  : 
"  For  thou,  too,  wilt  love  it  truly !  " 
Here,  as  he  paused  a  while,  Dame  Ulricborg 
could  scarcely  hide  her  amazement,  knowing 
how  often  before  he  had  wilfully  refused  the 
same  request  from  others.  Indeed,  the  peasant 
Ulricborg  had  all  his  life  loved  poetry  with  a 
singular  passion;  and  this  particular  rune,  which 
had  come  down  in  his  family,  he  seemed  to  set 
apart  as  something  almost  sacred  ;  he  treasured 
its  verses  as  misers  hoard  gold  pieces.  Whether 
he  thought  it  too  beautiful  to  be  made  overcom- 
mon,  or  for  what  reason,  no  one  knew;  that  was 
his  oddity.  So,  while  he  sang  it  sometimes  to 
those  he  considered  worthy,  he  would  teach  it 
to  none. 

And  now  at  last,  as  he  promised  it  to  Elsa, 
Dame  Ulricborg  thought  sadly  that  the  promise 
came  too  late ;  for  how  could  he  teach  it  to  the 


THE  LOST  RUNE  71 

little  girl,  when  every  breath  was  such  weary 
effort?  And  she  knew  he  was  unable  to  write 
readily  even  if  he  had  the  strength. 

But  having  rested  a  little,  he  motioned  her 
to  bend  down,  and  then  he  whispered  some 
thing  to  her.  She  listened  with  a  look  of  sur 
prise,  and  then  hastened  into  the  living  room, 
and  opening  a  little  cupboard,  searched,  till  in 
the  farthest  corner  she  found  a  small  box,  and 
this  she  brought  to  the  bedside.  As  she  opened 
it,  out  fluttered  some  thin  old  sheets  of  paper, 
closely  written  over  and  yellow  with  age. 

The  old  man's  eyes  kindled  as  he  saw  these, 
and  as  he  marked  the  utter  surprise  of  his  wife. 

"Ah,  dear  heart,"  he  said,  "thou  didst  not 
know — the  priest  wrote  down  the  words  for  me 
— long  ago — I  loved  it — and  wished  to  keep  it — 
and  I  hid  it  away" — but  here  the  dying  peas 
ant,  too  exhausted  for  further  speech,  paused, 
and  then,  turning  to  Elsa  the  blue  eyes  from 
which  the  light  was  swiftly  fading,  murmured 
to  her : 


72  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

"Take  it,  little  one  ;  'tis  the  rune — do  with  it 
as  thou  wilt." 

Elsa  was  so  overcome  that  she  fell  to  crying 
bitterly,  and  neither  she  nor  Dame  Ulricborg 
noticed  the  sound  of  sleighbells,  for  the  ground 
was  covered  with  a  light  snow.  In  a  few  min 
utes,  however,  the  cottage  door  opened,  and  in 
came  Elsa's  father,  all  anxiety  for  the  safety  of 
his  little  girl.  When  Elsa,  hearing  him,  came 
into  the  living  room,  he  caught  her  in  his  arms 
and  kissed  her  passionately,  for  he  had  been 
greatly  alarmed  on  learning  of  her  journey,  and 
had  set  off  in  hot  haste  to  find  her. 

Herr  Lonnrot,  too,  who  had  grown  much 
better,  had  insisted  on  coming  with  him,  and 
was  even  then  slowly  walking  toward  the  cot 
tage  door,  for  he  was  still  feeble  from  his  ill 
ness.  He,  too,  was  delighted  to  find  Elsa 
safely  cared  for;  but  both  he  and  Elsa's  father 
hushed  their  voices  when  she  told  them  of  the 
peasant  Ulricborg.  They  stepped  softly  into 
the  other  room,  and  Herr  Lonnrot's  practised 


,  THE  LOST  RUNE  73 

eye,  for  you  remember  he  was  a  physician,  at 
once  saw  that  his  skill  could  do  nothing  to  help 
the  old  man.  As  the  Herr  gently  smoothed 
the  coverlid  the  sick  peasant  gave  a  faint  smile 
to  the  faithful  old  wife  who  still  bent  over  him, 
and  then,  as  Elsa  stood  reverently  holding  the 
yellow  papers  between  her  little  palms,  he 
turned  to  her  a  long  lingering  look  that  seemed 
to  say : 

"Farewell,  little  one!  and  farewell  to  the 
beloved  song,  that  I  have  cherished  so  jealously 
all  these  years.  I  must  leave  thee  now,  but  I 
leave  thee  in  loving  hands — farewell."  And 
then  peacefully,  as  the  wife  laid  her  withered 
cheek  close  to  his,  his  spirit  passed  away  to  find 
their  little  Aino. 

Afterward,  when  Elsa  gave  to  Herr  Lonnrot 
the  precious  papers  on  which  the  rune  was  writ 
ten,  at  first  he  looked  at  them  in  amazement ; 
but  his  heart  filled  with  delight  when  he  learned 
what  the  papers  contained.  He  drew  Elsa  to 
him,  and  kissing  her  forehead  declared  that  she 


74  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

had  not  only  pleased  him  beyond  measure,  but 
had  done  honor  to  old  Finland  in  helping 
complete  the  immortal  poem  he  was  striving  to 
save. 

When,  some  weeks  later,  Herr  Lonnrot  went 
away,  after  providing  for  the  comfort  of  Dame 
Ulricborg,  he  journeyed  back  to  Helsingfors, 
the  capital  city  of  Finland ;  and  told  the  scholars 
who  were  studying  the  poetry  of  the  land  how 
the  little  girl  had  been  the  means  of  bringing  to 
light  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  runes. 
Then  the  scholars  had  a  little  silver  medal 
made  which  they  sent  to  Elsa,  and  which  she 
took  great  pride  in  keeping  through  all  her  life  ; 
and  no  doubt  her  great-grandchildren  still  keep 
it  to  this  day. 

As  for  Herr  Lonnrot,  he  lived  to  put  together 
the  runes  he  had  collected,  and  when  he  had 
finished  he  called  the  poem  "  Kalevala,"  which 
in  our  language  means  "  Land  of  Heroes,"  be 
cause  it  tells  the  wonderful  story  of  the  heroes 
of  that  ancient  land. 


THE  LOST  RUNE  75 

And  some  day,  perhaps,  you  will  read  this 
"Kalevala,"  for  it  is  one  of  the  noblest  and 
most  beautiful  poems  in  all  the  world.  And 
then  when  you  come  to  the  rune  which  tells  of 
the  birth  of  the  harp,  you  too  will  be  glad  that 
the  little  Finnish  girl  was  the  means  of  saving 
it  from  being  lost  forever. 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD 

HOW  THE  PEASANT  BOY  GEOFFREY  BY  HIS 

BRAVERY  AND  DEVOTION  PREVENTED 

A  DUEL  OF  GREAT  NOBLES  AND 

BECAME   PAGE  TO   THE 

GOOD  KING  LOUIS 

"Tee  dee,  deedle  de  de  I"  shrieked  the  cock 
atoo,  from  his  perch  high  up  in  the  gabled  win 
dow  of  the  old  inn.  "Tee  de!"  He  was  a 
pink  and  white  cockatoo,  with  a  beautiful  tuft 
on  top  of  his  head ;  one  of  his  legs  was  chained 
to  a  carved  wooden  perch  that  projected  from 
the  window-sill,  while  with  his  free  claw  he 
carefully  balanced  a  large  silver  spoon,  of  an 
tique  pattern,  from  the  contents  of  which  he 
was  very  deliberately  dining.  For  he  was  no 

76 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          77 

common  bird.  Monsieur  Jean  the  landlord  of 
this  "  Guillaume-le-Conquerant "  inn,  of  the 
ancient  town  of  Dives,  being  something  of  a 
bird  fancier,  had  but  lately  bought  him,  and 
for  fear  he  might  fly  away,  was  thus  keeping 
him  chained  to  the  window  of  monsieur's  own 
apartment  until  he  should  grow  used  to  his  new 
home.  As  he  now  slowly  picked  from  his 
spoon  the  last  morsel,  and  swallowed  it  with  a 
great  ruffling  of  feathers  all  the  way  down  his 
throat,  again  he  shrilled  out  in  a  high-pitched 
mimicking  tone,  "  Tee  deedle  !"  and  this  time  a 
little  boy  looked  up  quickly  from  the  courtyard 
below. 

The  boy  was  seated  on  a  bench  under  a  plane- 
tree,  and  held  in  his  hands  a  sheet  of  yellow 
parchment  on  which  was  written  a  musical 
score,  whose  large  black  notes  he  was  trying  to 
hum  over. 

"Fie,  Cockie!"  he  cried,  as  he  looked  up, 
"  dost  thou  not  know  'tis  a  wicked  sin  to 


78  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

mock  me  when  I  am  learning  the  holy  mass 
music?  " 

But  Cockle  only  screwed  his  head  to  one  side, 
shook  his  empty  spoon,  and  peered  down  with 
an  impudent  stare,  as  with  a  sigh  the  little  boy 
once  more  applied  himself  to  his  task.  In  a  few 
moments,  however,  he  was  again  interrupted, 
this  time  by  a  call  from  beyond  the  kitchen  : 

"  Geoff  rey  I  Geoffrey!  come  hither  and  help 
catch  this  fowl  for  the  Count  Hugo's  soup  to 
morrow  1" 

After  a  hot  chase,  Geoffrey  succeeded  in 
catching  the  fat  hen  and  handing  her  over  to 
the  white-capped  cook  of  the  inn  kitchen,  and 
then  he  once  more  sat  down  and  took  up  his 
parchment;  for  though  a  serving  boy  through 
the  week,  on  Sunday  he  took  his  place  with  the 
little  choristers  of  the  Dives  cathedral,  and 
Father  Anselm  had  allowed  him  to  take  the 
score  home  with  him,  so  that  he  might  practise 
in  his  leisure  moments. 

But  as  he  now  tried  to  go  over  the  black 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          79 

notes,  there  was  a  mournful  cadence  to  every 
tone,  for  Geoffrey  was  very  unhappy.  Usually 
he  was  gay  as  a  bird,  and  indeed  sang  very  like 
one  ;  but  to-day  he  had  a  weight  on  his  mind,  as 
he  sat  there  in  the  courtyard  of  the  quaint  old 
inn. 

It  was  long,  long  ago  that  Geoffrey  lived — 
nearly  six  hundred  years.  The  inn  in  which 
he  served  had  been  built  in  the  Norman  town 
of  Dives  nearly  three  centuries  earlier  by  the 
great  Duke  of  Normandy,  William  the  Con 
queror,  whose  name,  which  in  French  (for  Nor 
mandy  is  a  part  of  France)  is  Guillaume-le- 
Conquerant,  the  inn  still  bore  in  Geoffrey's  time 
as  it  bears  to  this  day.  The  Duke  William  had 
built  the  house  because  he  wished  to  have  some 
safe  and  pleasant  stopping  place  during  the  time 
he  was  overseeing  the  finishing  and  freighting 
of  the  fleet  of  boats  which  lay  near  by  in  the 
river  Dives,  and  in  which  he  meant  to  sail  to 
the  conquest  of  England. 

And  so,  with  such  illustrious  beginning,  the 


8o  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

inn  had  become  very  famous  among  the  nobles 
of  Normandy,  and  grown  larger  and  larger, 
till,  in  the  days  when  Geoffrey  lived,  it  was  a 
very  beautiful  place  indeed.  The  courtyard, 
which  one  entered  through  an  arched  gate 
way  covered  with  guelder  roses,  was  sur 
rounded  by  ancient  wooden  buildings  ;  their 
dark  mossy  beams  were  put  together  with 
white  plaster,  and  their  innumerable  pictur 
esque  peaks  and  gables  and  wooden  galleries 
and  winding  stairways  were  richly  overhung 
with  masses  of  the  most  lovely  vines ;  for  roses, 
wistarias,  clematis,  and  jasmines  clambered 
everywhere.  There  were  two  gardens  also  ; 
one  for  the  kitchen,  the  other  full  of  lilies  and 
clove  pinks  and  French  daisies,  and  number 
less  sweet  old-fashioned  flowers  ;  for  Monsieur 
Jean,  the  innkeeper,  had  much  taste  and  loved 
both  flowers  and  birds.  Indeed,  besides  sev 
eral  cockatoos,  he  always  kept  dozens  of  pea' 
cocks  that  trailed  about  the  courtyard  squawk 
ing  and  spreading  their  gorgeous  tails  every 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          Si 

time  a  new  guest  entered  the  gateway.  There 
were  fine  pigeons,  too,  and  rabbits  and  chick 
ens,  and  no  end  of  interesting  things. 

Geoffrey  thought  it  a  charming  place  to 
live,  and  he  did  not  in  the  least  mind  the 
work  he  had  to  do ;  for  all  were  kind  to  him, 
and  moreover,  he  was  happy  in  being  able  to 
give  some  of  his  earnings  to  his  family  at 
home,  who  were  very  poor.  His  father  was 
a  peasant  living  on  the  estate  of  the  young 
Count  Boni,  of  Chateau  Beauvais,  and  had  it 
not  been  for  the  kind-heartedness  of  this  count, 
the  poor  peasant  would  have  had  hard  shift  to 
keep  his  little  children  in  bread  ;  for  in  those 
days  the  country  had  been  so  wasted  by  wars 
that  the  peasant  folk  had  almost  nothing  left  on 
which  to  live.  But  the  Count  Boni  had  always 
been  most  generous  and  considerate  to  the  peo 
ple  on  his  estate,  and  especially  to  Geoffrey's 
father,  who  was  honest,  and  intelligent  above 
his  class.  The  count  it  was  who  had  secured 
for  Geoffrey  the  place  at  the  inn,  and  it  was  he 


82  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

also  who  had  spoken  to  the  monks  of  Dives  of 
the  boy's  sweet  voice,  so  that  the  good  Fathers 
had  become  interested,  and  were  taking  much 
pains  in  teaching  him  music. 

And  now  we  come  to  the  reason  that  Geof 
frey  was  so  unhappy  as  he  sat  under  the  plane- 
tree,  vainly  trying  to  practise  his  lesson;  for 
he  was  thinking  all  the  while  of  a  deadly  peril 
that  threatened  this  good  Count  Boni,  to  whom 
he  was  deeply  grateful  for  so  many  things,  and 
whom  he  truly  loved  next  to  his  own  father. 

His  knowledge  of  the  count's  danger  had 
come  about  in  this  way.  It  had  happened  that, 
the  day  before,  Geoffrey  had  been  sent  to  the 
Chateau  Beauvais,  which  was  not  far  distant 
from  Dives,  to  carry  some  rabbits  which  Mon 
sieur  Jean  had  promised  to  Isabeau,  the  little 
daughter  of  the  count.  When  Geoffrey  reached 
the  chateau  and  inquired  for  the  little  Lady  Isa 
beau,  he  had  been  sent  into  the  garden,  and 
there  he  found  her  crying  as  if  her  heart  would 
break  1  Now  this  grieved  Geoffrey  very  much 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          83 

indeed;  as  he  quite  worshiped  the  gracious 
little  girl  who  used  often  to  visit  their  cottage 
when  he  lived  at  home,  and  who  had  sometimes 
gaily  carried  him  back  with  her  for  a  day's 
happy  romp  in  the  beautiful  chateau  grounds. 

When  he  asked  her  the  reason  of  her  tears, 
she  had  told  him  between  her  sobs  : 

"O,  Geoffrey!  my  dear  father,  the  count,  is 
to  fight  a  dreadful  duel  with  the  wicked  Count 
Hugo,  who  will  surely  kill  him  with  his  evil 
sword  !  I  heard  nurse  Marie  talking  with  the 
gardener,  and  they  say  he  will  surely  kill  him  ! 
Oh  !  Oh  !  Oh  I  "  and  here  poor  little  Isabeau 
fairly  shook  with  the  violence  of  her  sobbing. 

Geoffrey  tried  as  best  he  could  to  comfort 
her,  but  to  no  avail ;  she  could  not  be  induced 
even  to  look  at  the  rabbits  she  had  so  much 
wanted ;  so  at  last  he  was  obliged  to  set  them 
down  quietly,  and  sorrowfully  take  his  leave, 
though  not  until  he  had  questioned  some  of  the 
chateau  pages  for  more  particulars  of  that 
which  the  little  girl  had  told  him.  He  thus 


84  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

learned  that  Count  Boni  had  indeed  been  chal 
lenged  to  a  duel  by  the  old  Count  Hugo,  who 
lived  in  a  castle  beyond  the  city  of  Meaux. 

Now  in  those  days,  when  people  got  into 
disputes  about  things,  even  a  bit  of  property, 
instead  of  settling  the  matter  in  courts  of  law 
as  we  do,  it  was  quite  customary  to  fight  a 
" judicial  duel,"  as  it  was  called;  that  is,  the 
two  men  disputing  appointed  a  meeting-place 
where  they  tried  to  wound  each  other,  gen 
erally  with  swords,  and  the  one  who  succeeded 
in  disabling,  or  as  sometimes  happened,  killing 
his  adversary,  was  adjudged  the  better  man  and 
the  winner  of  his  case.  This  was  certainly  a 
strange  and  cruel  way  of  doing,  but  six  hun 
dred  years  ago  people  did  many  strange  and 
cruel  things.  Had  young  Count  Boni  merely 
engaged  to  fight  an  ordinary  duel,  that  would 
have  been  bad  enough,  though  it  would  not  per 
haps  have  been  a  matter  of  such  concern  j  for 
the  count  was  brave  and  a  good  swordsman, — 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          85 

and,  ah,  well !  one  must  expect  a  duel  now  and 
then. 

But  that  which  caused  Isabeau,  and  Geoffrey, 
too,  when  he  learned  of  it,  such  grief,  was  that 
her  father  was  to  fight  the  Count  Hugo;  for 
this  nobleman  was  known  to  be  most  wicked 
and  unscrupulous.  It  was  his  custom  to  pick 
an  unjust  quarrel  with  some  noble  whose  lands 
he  coveted  and  falsely  claimed ;  then  he  would 
challenge  his  victim  to  a  "  judicial  duel,"  which 
always  resulted  in  the  noble  being  slain,  and 
his  estates  being  seized  by  Hugo.  For  no  one 
had  ever  been  able  to  stand  against  the  wicked 
count,  who  fought  not  merely  to  wound,  but  to 
kill,  and  who  had  the  reputation  of  being  the 
most  skilful  and  merciless  swordsman  in  all 
France.  Indeed,  his  cruel  sword  had  slain  so 
many  noble  lords  that  people  declared  it  was 
bewitched  ;  that  Count  Hugo,  who  had  been  a 
crusader,  had  obtained  it  from  the  heathen  Sar 
acens,  who  had  forged  it  under  some  evil  spell. 


86  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

They  insisted  the  more  on  the  unholy  power  of 
this  sword,  as  Count  Hugo  himself  seemed  to 
regard  it  with  great  superstition  and  always  pre 
ferred  it  to  any  other  weapon;  though,  indeed, 
many  people  even  went  further  in  their  talk,  and 
asserted  also  that  the  count  had  got  his  unhal 
lowed  skill  from  some  heathen  wizard,  and  that 
any  sword  would,  in  his  hands,  be  certain  to  deal 
a  fatal  thrust. 

And  so  it  was  that  when  he  chose  a  victim  for 
one  of  his  duels,  it  was  considered  equal  to  a 
death  warrant ;  though  he  always  took  care  to 
make  the  nobles  he  challenged  so  angry  that 
they  would  not  listen  to  reason,  and  would  fight 
him  regardless  of  the  fate  of  all  who  had  crossed 
swords  with  him  before.  This,  too,  it  was 
whispered,  was  a  part  of  his  sorcery — though 
perhaps  really  it  was  because  the  high-spirited 
Norman  noblemen  were  no  cowards,  and  would 
let  no  one  assail  their  honor  or  seize  their  prop 
erty  if  they  could  possibly  help  it. 

The  more  Geoffrey  thought  of  these  things, 


and  of  the  many  kindnesses  of  Count  Boni,  and 
then  as  he  saw  in  memory  the  sweet,  tear- 
stained  face  of  little  Isabeau,  his  singing  became 
more  and  more  melancholy,  till  at  last  he  stop 
ped  altogether,  and  gave  himself  up  to  think 
ing.  He  knew  from  the  inn  servants  that  the 
Count  Hugo  was  expected  there  the  next  day, 
and  that  the  duel  was  fixed  for  the  following 
morning  just  outside  the  walls  of  Dives. 

"Oh,"  he  thought,  "if  it  only,  only  could 
in  some  way  be  prevented ! ' '  Now  Count 
Boni  himself  would  have  been  very  indignant 
had  he  known  that  anybody  was  thinking  it 
should  be  prevented ;  for,  just  as  Count  Hugo 
had  desired,  he  was  very  angry  with  his  adver 
sary,  and  had  no  wish  to  avoid  the  encounter. 
But  that  could  not  prevent  Geoffrey  from  wish 
ing  it  might  be  avoided  for  him. 

Indeed,  Geoffrey  had  learned  many  things. 
He  had  a  quick  intelligence,  and  was  very  ob 
servant,  and  many  travelers  came  to  the  inn ; 
so  he  was  by  no  means  so  ignorant  of  affairs  as 


88  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

many  little  boys  of  his  age.  He  had  heard  it 
said  that  the  Norman  nobles  had  long  sought 
in  vain  for  some  pretext  to  rid  themselves  of 
the  wicked  Hugo,  who  was  a  rich  and  powerful 
lord  and  seemed  to  lead  a  life  charmed  against 
all  attack,  for  he  had  been  many  times  openly 
assailed.  As  to  his  shameless  dueling,  since 
that  was  then  within  bounds  of  the  law,  they 
could  do  nothing.  So  how,  thought  Geoffrey 
sadly,  how  could  he,  a  poor  little  peasant  boy, 
hope  to  do  anything  where  the  great  nobles 
seemed  powerless ! 

But,  by  and  by,  he  was  aroused  from  his  rev 
erie  by  Monsieur  Jean,  who  wished  his  help  in 
the  many  preparations  demanded  of  the  inn  folk 
by  the  important  guest  of  the  morrow,  this  hate 
ful  Hugo  who  was  coming  to  kill  his  dear  Count 
Boni  1  Ugh  !  had  it  not  been  bad  enough  to 
have  to  catch  the  chicken  for  his  soup?  How 
he  wished  it  might  strangle  him !  And  how 
poor  Geoffrey  hated  himself  now  because  he 
was  compelled  to  assist  in  this  and  that  arrange- 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          89 

ment  for  the  entertainment  of  the  murderous 
nobleman  and  his  many  followers.  How  he 
wished  they  were  all  at  the  bottom  of  the  Red 
Sea! 

But  at  last,  after  much  labor,  that  disagreea 
ble  day  wore  to  an  end  for  the  little  boy,  though 
when  he  went  to  bed  and  tried  to  forget  his 
troubles,  he  dreamed  all  night  of  poor  little 
Isabeau,  and  seemed  to  hear  her  piteous  sobs 
and  to  see  the  hot  tears  streaming  down  her 
pretty  pink  cheeks. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  inn  was  astir, 
and  busy  with  more  preparations  for  the  ex 
pected  guests.  And,  sure  enough,  just  before 
midday,  in  through  the  rose-covered  gateway 
galloped  four  outriders,  wearing  the  crimson 
livery  of  Count  Hugo,  and  insolently  jingling 
their  bridle  reins  and  clanking  their  great  gilded 
spurs. 

Shortly  after  their  arrival  the  coach  itself 
dashed  into  the  middle  of  the  courtyard  with  a 
great  clatter  of  hoofs  and  wheels,  followed 


90  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

by  a  long  train  of  mounted  and  liveried  serv 
ants,  and  lackeys,  and  pages,  and  men-at-arms ; 
for  traveling  in  those  days  was  none  too  safe 
without  a  guard  of  spearmen  and  lancers. 
The  coach  was  painted  a  bright  yellow  and 
richly  gilded;  on  the  panels  of  its  doors  the 
count's  crest  and  coat  of  arms  were  blazoned  in 
blue  and  crimson ;  and  no  sooner  had  its  wheels 
stopped  than  the  lackeys  jumped  from  their 
horses  and,  running  to  its  side,  flung  open  the 
doors,  which  they  respectfully  held  back  as  still 
others  assisted  the  nobleman  to  alight. 

Count  Hugo  was  a  heavily-built  man  of  mid 
dle  age,  with  cold,  cruel  eyes,  and  mustachios 
of  grisly  gray ;  he  was  richly  dressed  in  a  green 
velvet  suit  with  crimson  satin  facings  and  ruffles 
of  the  finest  lace ;  his  shoe  buckles  sparkled 
with  diamonds.  Geoffrey,  who  from  a  quiet 
corner  was  watching  everything,  involuntarily 
clenched  his  fists  as  he  saw  the  evil-omened 
sword,  encased  in  an  elaborately-wrought  scab- 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          91 

bard,  poking  hatefully  out  from  under  the  tail 
of  the  count's  beautiful  velvet  coat. 

As  Hugo,  followed  by  his  retinue,  crossed  the 
courtyard,  there  was  a  great  bowing  and  scrap 
ing  from  Monsieur  Jean  and  all  the  inn  serv 
ants  ;  the  peacocks  spread  their  gorgeous  tails 
and  screamed  at  the  tops  of  their  voices ;  the 
pigeons  puffed  and  pouted  and  strutted  about ; 
the  cockatoo  shrieked  loudly  and  flourished  his 
silver  spoon;  and  the  rabbits  ran  away  with 
their  ears  flat  to  their  heads  with  fright,  and  hid 
under  the  cabbage  leaves  in  the  garden  until 
the  commotion  of  the  count's  arrival  had  some 
what  subsided. 

But  at  last  the  great  man  had  been  ushered 
into  his  rooms,  where  he  had  breakfasted  on  the 
most  elaborate  products  of  the  cooks'  skill • 
while  on  the  spits  in  the  great  inn  kitchen  huge 
haunches  of  venison  and  beef  were  turning  and 
browning  in  front  of  the  blazing  fire,  and  the 
white-capped  and  aproned  scullions  were  run- 


92  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

ning  about  with  big  ladles  and  spoons  in  their 
hands  making  ready  the  dinner  for  the  large 
company  of  guests. 

Geoffrey  had,  at  their  bidding,  done  many 
errands,  and  last  of  all  had  brought  up  from 
the  garden  a  great  basket  of  vegetables.  He 
had  wished,  as  he  tragically  jerked  them  out  of 
the  ground  and  brandished  them  in  the  air, 
that  each  separate  carrot,  leek  and  radish  might 
stick  in  Count  Hugo's  wicked  throat,  and  stay 
there  forever !  Now  at  length  tired  out,  he 
sat  down  to  rest  on  his  bench  under  the  plane- 
tree. 

As  he  sat  there,  presently  through  the  arched 
gateway  there  entered  a  man  dressed  in  a  frayed 
waistcoat  of  ragged  satin,  knee  breeches  of  blue 
plush  much  the  worse  for  wear,  and  leather 
leggings  from  which  half  the  buckles  were  gone. 
Slung  around  his  neck  by  a  gay  green  ribbon 
hung  a  viol,  and  in  one  hand  he  grasped  a 
slender  little  chain  that  held  in  leash  a  small 
monkey  wearing  a  tiny  red  cap.  This  motley 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          93 

figure  was  one  of  the  strolling  jongleurs,  half 
juggler,  half  troubadour,  who  flourished  at 
that  time  in  all  parts  of  France,  and  managed 
to  eke  out  a  living  from  the  pranks  of  their 
monkeys  and  the  practice  of  the  "gay  science," 
as  it  was  called ;  that  is,  by  the  singing  of  songs 
which  they  themselves  usually  made  up  and  set 
to  music. 

As  this  particular  jongleur  entered  the  court 
yard,  he  spied  Geoffrey,  and  strolling  over  to 
the  bench  amiably  seated  himself  beside  the 
boy  with  a  friendly  * '  Good  morrow,  my  lad  ! ' : 

"  Good  morrow,  sir,"  answered  Geoffrey, 
rather  absently. 

The  jongleur  then  caught  sight  of  the  coach 
drawn  up  by  the  inn  wall. 

"Ah,"  he  said,  "small  wonder  none  came 
forth  to  welcome  us.  Other  guests  are  ahead 
of  me,  I  perceive."  And,  as  the  monkey 
climbed  upon  his  knee,  he  added  :  "Had  thou 
and  I  fared  hither  in  yonder  yellow  cart,  Pippo, 
we  should  have  had  the  whole  inn  at  our  feet. 


94  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

And  monsieur,  the  landlord,  would  have  been 
down  on  his  knees  humbly  beseeching  to  know 
when  my  Lord  Pippo  would  be  pleased  to  dine  ! 
Hey !  Pippo  !  is't  not  true?" 

But  Pippo,  paying  no  attention  to  him,  be 
gan  mischievously  to  finger  the  strings  of  the 
viol  with  his  little  brown  claws,  and  the  jong 
leur,  with  a  gay  laugh,  turning  to  Geoffrey, 
inquired : 

"  To  whom  does  yonder  gaud  belong?" 

"It  is  the  coach  of  Count  Hugo,"  said  Geof 
frey;  "  he  came  to-day,  and  is  to  fight  a  duel 
with  Count  Boni,  of  Chateau  Beauvias,  to-mor 
row  morning." 

"  So  1"  said  the  jongleur  with  a  short  whis 
tle  ;  "well,  then,  their  countships  had  better  let 
no  grass  grow  under  their  noble  feet,  for  the 
king  hath  but  just  issued  an  edict  forbidding  all 
such  dueling  from  now  on,  henceforth  and  for 
ever." 

"What,  sir?"  said  Geoffrey,  suddenly  rous 
ing  up  excitedly;  "what  is  that  thou  sayest?" 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          95 

"Well,  well,  little  man!  thou  seemest  to 
take  this  matter  somewhat  to  heart  I  I  was 
merely  mentioning  the  new  edict  of  our  blessed 
King  Louis  Ninth,  God  save  his  soul,  which  for 
bids  dueling  !  It  seems  our  sovereign  lord  hath 
grown  weary  of  the  foolish  practice  whereby  he 
hath  lost  so  many  noble  subjects,  and  moreover, 
being  a  wise  monarch,  hath  become  convinced 
that  all  disputes  should  be  settled  in  the  courts 
of  law,  which  he  hath  been  studying  much  since 
his  return  from  Constantinople,  where  the  law 
is  held  in  high  esteem  —  in  short,  he  will  have 
no  more  'judicial  duels' ;  and  yesterday  when 
I  and  Pippo  were  in  Rouen,  we  heard  the 
king's  heralds  as  they  solemnly  proclaimed  the 
new  edict  to  the  people." 

"Oh!"  exclaimed  Geoffrey  delightedly, 
"thank  the  blessed  saints,  then,  the  duel  can 
not  be  fought  to-morrow  ! ' ' 

"  Hold,  hold,"  said  the  jongleur,  "not  so 
fast,  my  lad — " 

"  Nay,"  cried  Geoffrey,  "  but  how  dare  they 


96  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

when  the  king  forbids?"  and,  dragging  the 
jongleur  up  by  the  hand,  he  added  :  "Come 
with  me  now  and  we  will  seek  the  wicked 
Count  Hugo,  and  tell  him  the  news  !  Come  ! " 

"Nay,  nay,"  the  jongleur  replied,  "not  I !  " 

"Why,  is  it  not  true?  "  demanded  Geoffrey. 

"True  as  gospel,"  said  the  jongleur,  "but 
thou  art  but  a  child ;  dost  thou  fancy  two  noble 
lords,  bent  on  the  sword  play,  would  for  one 
moment  be  stayed  by  the  word  of  a  poor 
strolling  jongleur?  Nay,  I  should  but  receive 
a  drubbing  for  my  pains  if  I  sought  to  inform 
that  cruel  Hugo.  I  prefer,  thank  you,  to  keep 
my  bones  whole ;  especially  as  I  could  do  no 
good.  Moreover,  let  them  spit  each  other,  if 
they  so  desire  !  I  do  not  care,  youngster,  how 
many  duels  they  fight ! ' ' 

But  when  he  looked  down  and  saw  the  grief 
in  Geoffrey's  eyes,  he  softened,  and  added : 
"  But  since  thou  seemest  to  care  so  much,  lit 
tle  one,  I  would  risk  the  drubbing,  by  my 
faith,  I  would  1  if  'twere  to  any  purpose.  But 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          97 

I  am  older  than  them,  and  somewhat  a  man  of 
the  world,"  here  the  jongleur  straightened  him 
self  up;  "and  I  swear  to  thee,  'twould  work 
naught  but  mischief  were  I  to  seek  out  yonder 
count  and  strive  to  prevent  his  encounter  to 
morrow.  He  would  simply  be  angered,  and 
would  not  believe  me,  or  would  pretend  not  to, 
because  he  does  not  wish  to  be  stopped  till  he 
hath  killed  this  Count  Boni  you  tell  me  of,  and 
got  his  lands.  Naught  but  the  king's  heralds 
themselves  could  hinder  that  affair."  And 
then,  as  he  meditated,  he  added  :  "  'Tis  a  mon 
strous  pity,  though  !  When  didst  thou  say  they 
fight,  little  one?  In  the  morning?  A  mon 
strous  pity  I  For  the  heralds  will  no  doubt  ar 
rive  in  Dives  to-morrow  afternoon ;  they  were 
to  come  hither  on  leaving  Rouen.  Thou  know- 
est  they  must  proclaim  the  edict  through  all  the 
cities  of  the  realm  1  " 

Six  hundred  years  ago  printing  and  newspa 
pers  and  the  telegraph  were  unknown ;  and  so 
when  a  war  was  to  be  undertaken,  or  peace  set- 


98  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

tied  upon,  or  a  new  law  made,  the  king  sent  his 
heralds  about  through  all  his  dominions,  and 
they  made  proclamation  to  the  people,  with  a 
great  flourish  of  trumpets  and  much  quaint  cer 
emony. 

But  here  Pippo  became  engaged  in  a  squab 
ble  with  a  fat  peacock,  and  the  jongleur  rising, 
separated  them,  and  then  strolled  off  toward 
the  inn  kitchen ;  for  he  had  journeyed  far,  and 
the  savory  smells  wafted  out  into  the  courtyard 
suddenly  reminded  him  that  he  was  very  hun 
gry- 

Geoffrey,  thus  left  alone,  fell  to  thinking,  and 

he  thought  and  thought  as  never  before  in  all 
his  life.  So  the  heralds  were  on  their  way  to 
Dives,  if  what  the  jongleur  told  was  true,  and 
he  believed  it  was;  and  the  jongleur  had  said, 
moreover,  that  these  heralds  could  stop  even 
the  wicked  Hugo  from  carrying  out  his  de 
signs.  Geoffrey  felt  that  this  was  true  also,  for 
he  knew  that  not  even  noblemen  dared  openly 
defy  the  king.  And  then  he  reasoned,  perhaps 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD          99 

more  wisely  than  he  knew,  that  Hugo  stirred 
up  and  fought  these  "judicial  duels"  merely  to 
increase  his  property  and  not  to  satisfy  his  per 
sonal  honor;  and  that  if  nothing  were  to  be 
gained,  Hugo  would  surely  not  fight.  The  king 
had  forbidden  his  subjects  to  acquire  property 
that  way ;  the  great  thing,  therefore,  was  to  pre 
vent  the  encounter  in  the  morning,  so  that  the 
heralds  might  have  time  to  come  to  Dives  and 
make  their  proclamation,  which  would  certainly 
put  an  end  to  the  whole  affair.  But  how,  how 
could  he,  Geoffrey,  do  this? 

At  last,  however,  an  idea  occurred  to  him 
that  made  his  eyes  brighten  and  his  cheeks 
flush.  If  he  could  only  get  hold  of  that  be 
witched  Saracen  sword  of  Count  Hugo's,  and 
hide  it,  why,  probably,  as  the  count  was  known 
superstitiously  to  prefer  it  to  any  other  weapon, 
he  might  be  delayed  hunting  for  it  till  the  her 
alds  came. 

As  Geoffrey  thought  over  this  plan,  he  re 
flected  that  if  he  got  possession  of  the  sword  it 


ioo  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

must  be  that  night,  as  the  count  wore  it  con 
stantly  all  day  long ;  and  though  he  felt  like  a 
highwayman  and  a  robber  even  to  plan  it,  for 
he  was  an  honest  little  lad,  yet  he  said  to  him 
self  there  was  no  other  way  to  save  Isabeau's 
father. 

And  so,  full  of  his  project,  as  a  preliminary, 
he  got  up  and  sauntered  past  that  part  of  the 
inn  where  he  knew  was  the  count's  sleeping 
chamber,  and  noticed  that  it  had  one  window 
opening  upon  one  of  the  little  wooden  galleries 
which  was  approached  from  the  outside  by  a 
winding  stair.  The  window  was  barred  with 
heavy  wooden  rounds ;  but  as  Geoffrey  meas 
ured  with  his  eye  the  distance  between  these 
bars,  he  felt  sure  that  if  he  made  himself  as 
flat  as  possible,  he  could  squeeze  in  through 
them.  It  would  not  be  so  easy  to  get  the  sword 
out,  but  perhaps  he  could  manage  it  somehow; 
he  must  manage  it ! 

Having  thus  made  up  his  mind  as  to  what  he 
would  do,  Goeffrey  passed  the  rest  of  the  after- 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD         101 

noon  and  evening  in  a  fever  of  impatience. 
After  supper  was  over  he  hid  himself  in  the 
garden  behind  a  rose  bush,  and  as  he  watched 
the  inn  it  seemed  as  if  the  last  of  the  clatter 
would  never  die  away,  and  people  would  never 
settle  down  and  go  to  sleep  I  But  at  length — 
after  weeks,  it  seemed  to  Geoffrey — the  last 
candle  flickered  out  and  the  inn  became  quiet. 
He  waited,  however,  an  hour  or  two  longer, 
knowing  the  habit  of  the  maids  to  lie  awake  and 
gossip  in  the  dark.  But  when  he  heard  the 
Dives  watchman  passing  the  inn  gateway  and 
calling  out,  "Midnight!  and  all's  well!"  he 
crept  out,  and  keeping  close  in  the  shadow  of 
the  wall,  reached  the  stairway  to  the  gallery  by 
the  count's  sleeping  room.  The  moon  had 
risen  and  might  have  betrayed  him  as  he 
mounted  it,  but  fortunately  the  stair  was  over 
hung  by  vines.  He  made  his  way  along  the 
gallery  to  the  count's  window.  There  was  no 
glass  in  it,  and,  as  it  was  summer  time,  the 
heavy  wooden  shutter  that  guarded  it  was  wide 


102  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

open,  the  bars  seeming  quite  enough  protection 
from  ordinary  intruders.  But  they  could  not 
keep  out  this  little  boy,  who  drew  in  his  breath 
and  made  his  little  stomach  as  flat  as  possible 
as  he  cautiously  wriggled  in  between  them.  At 
last  he  stood  on  tiptoe  in  the  count's  chamber. 
As  he  gazed  about,  here  and  there  the  moon 
light  touched  some  object  of  its  quaint  furnish 
ings,  and  although  Geoffrey,  on  the  inn  errands, 
had  been  in  the  room  before,  everything  now 
looked  strange  and  unfamiliar  to  his  wide-open, 
excited  eyes.  To  his  dismay  he  had  not  consid 
ered  how  he  should  find  the  sword  ;  but  as  he 
stood  wondering  and  groping  about  in  the  dim 
light,  a  beam  of  moonlight  fell  at  the  foot  of  the 
high-posted,  carved  and  canopied  bed  where  the 
count  lay  asleep,  and  showed  the  scabbard  with 
the  sword  in  it,  hanging  by  its  chased  metal 
hook  to  a  projecting  ornament  in  the  heavy 
carving  of  the  bed.  Geoffrey  tiptoed  over  to 
ward  it,  all  the  while  listening,  with  his  heart  in 
his  mouth,  to  the  count's  breathing.  He  seemed 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD         103 

to  be  sound  asleep,  for  now  and  then  he 
gave  a  little  snore ;  but,  as  with  trembling  fin 
gers  Geoffrey  took  down  the  sword,  its  tip  end 
struck  lightly  against  a  tall  chest  of  drawers 
near  by,  and  the  count  started  slightly.  Geof 
frey  crouched  down  hopelessly  in  the  shadow  of 
a  chair,  expecting  the  count  to  pounce  upon  him 
at  any  moment. 

But  in  a  few  minutes  Hugo's  regular  breath 
ing  told  that  he  was  again  deep  asleep. 

Geoffrey  then  hastened  to  make  his  way  back 
to  the  window,  though  he  found  the  sword  in  its 
heavy  scabbard  rather  an  awkward  burden  for  a 
little  boy,  and  it  became  still  more  awkward  as 
he  prepared  to  climb  between  the  bars.  He 
first  thought  he  would  take  the  sword  out  of  its 
sheath ;  but  then  how  could  he  drop  it  to  the 
gallery  below  without  making  a  noise?  He 
could  not  climb  out  with  it  in  his  arms.  So,  on 
second  thought,  he  decided  to  leave  it  in  the 
scabbard,  whose  metal  hook  he  saw  might  be 
useful;  then  lifting  this,  which  took  all  his 


io4  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

strength,  he  carefully  thrust  it  outside  between 
the  bars,  on  one  of  which  he  hung  the  hook, 
thus  keeping  both  sword  and  sheath  from  fall 
ing. 

He  next  turned  his  attention  to  getting  him 
self  out,  and  climbing  up,  and  squeezing  and 
squirming,  legs  first,  at  last  managed  once 
more  to  stand  outside  on  the  gallery  floor.  But 
it  had  happened  that  just  as  he  was  making 
the  last  twist  through  the  bars,  his  foot  had  ac 
cidentally  touched  the  scabbard,  hanging  from 
the  window,  and  it  clanked  against  the  wall. 
This  time  the  sound  seemed  to  penetrate  the 
ears  of  the  sleeping  Count  Hugo,  for  he  started 
up  in  earnest,  though  not  entirely  awake  j  he 
drowsily  arose,  however,  and  crossed  over  to 
the  window. 

Geoffrey,  meantime,  hearing  him  coming, 
drew  back  into  the  shadow,  tightly  clutching 
the  sword,  and  was  hidden  by  the  curtain  of 
vines. 

As  the  count  peered   through  the  bars,  he 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        105 

caught  sight  of  the  cockatoo,  whose  perch  was 
in  one  of  the  gable  windows  near  by.  Now, 
as  good  luck  had  it,  the  cockatoo  also  had 
been  half  aroused  from  his  sleep,  and  giving  a 
faint  screech,  began  to  shift  uneasily  in  his 
dreams,  from  one  leg  to  the  other,  his  chain 
clanking  against  his  perch  as  he  did  so.  Count 
Hugo  hearing  him,  at  once  supposed  the 
cockatoo  responsible  for  that  other  clanking 
sound  which  had  aroused  him ;  he  swore 
a  round  oath,  and  turned  from  the  window, 
muttering  to  himself,  "A  plague  on  that  jab 
bering  popinjay !  What  with  their  everlast 
ing  peacocks  and  monkeys,  and  heaven  only 
knows  what,  a  man  can  not  get  a  wink  of  sleep 
in  this  accursed  tavern  !  "  He  then  went  back 
to  bed  and,  angrily  flinging  himself  down,  was 
soon  snoring  soundly. 

After  a  while,  Geoffrey,  outside  on  the  gal 
lery,  began  creeping  cautiously  along,  and  at 
last  managing  to  get  down  the  stairway,  stood 
hesitating  a  moment  at  its  foot;  for  he  had 


io6  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

not  fully  decided  what  to  do  with  the  sword, 
now  that  he  had  it.  He  wished  as  soon  as 
possible  to  be  rid  of  the  wicked  thing;  for 
everybody  was  superstitious  in  those  days,  and 
he  felt  that  some  fearful  evil  threatened  him  so 
long  as  he  had  hold  of  the  fatal  weapon.  He 
would  really  have  very  much  liked  to  take  it 
out  and  throw  it  in  the  river  Dives,  so  it  could 
never  kill  any  one  else  ;  but  as  he  remembered 
that  to  do  this  he  would  have  to  climb  over  the 
high  wall  of  the  courtyard,  for  the  gate  was 
locked  and  the  portcullis  down,  and  that  then 
he  would  have  to  run  the  risk  of  meeting  the 
town  watchman,  he  concluded  the  chances  for 
being  caught  were  too  many,  and  that  he 
must  hide  the  sword  elsewhere.  Moreover,  he 
thought  that  to  drop  it  in  the  river  would  be 
too  much  like  stealing,  anyway,  which  he  did 
not  wish  to  be  guilty  of;  he  merely  wished  to 
keep  the  count  from  finding  the  sword  until  the 
heralds  came,  when  he  was  willing  to  restore  it. 
So  quickly  making  up  his  mind,  he  sped 


COUNT  HUGOS  SWORD         107 

down  into  the  garden,  where  he  carefully  hid 
it,  scabbard  and  all,  under  a  thick  tangle  of 
vines  and  shrubbery  which  grew  in  a  secluded 
corner  where  the  inn  people  seldom  went. 
This  done,  he  made  his  way  back  to  his  own 
little  chamber  under  one  of  the  gables,  and 
crept  into  bed,  although  he  was  so  excited  with 
his  night's  doings  that  he  could  not  go  to 
sleep. 

The  next  day,  as  was  his  custom,  Count 
Hugo  lay  abed  till  the  sun  was  well  up,  for  the 
duel  was  not  to  take  place  until  beyond  the 
middle  of  the  morning.  When  at  last  he 
arose,  and  his  serving  men  came  in  to  wait 
on  him  as  he  made  his  toilet,  they  adjusted  all 
his  ruffles  and  laces  with  the  greatest  nicety, 
freshly  curled  his  wig,  tied  up  his  queue  with  a 
crimson  ribbon,  and  smoothed  out  his  velvets 
and  satins  ;  then  everything  being  ready,  they 
looked  about  for  the  sword,  without  which 
Hugo  never  budged  an  inch.  But  when  they 
turned  to  where  he  told  them  he  had  left  it  the 


io8  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

night  before,  to  their  great  consternation,  it 
was  not  there !  When  they  timidly  ventured 
to  tell  the  count  that  he  must  have  put  it  some 
where  else,  Hugo,  who  was  busy  arranging  a 
heavy  gold  chain  about  his  lace  collar,  curtly 
replied,  without  turning  his  head:  "Ye  blind 
moles  of  the  earth  !  I  tell  you  it  is  there  I  " 

But  when  again  they  were  obliged  to  contra 
dict  him,  the  count  flew  into  a  temper,  and 
rushing  over  to  the  foot  of  the  bed,  put  out  his 
hand  to  seize  the  sword  and  give  them  a  wrath 
ful  prick  or  two  all  round — but  lo  !  sure  enough, 
it  was  not  there  ! 

There  then  followed  a  tremendous  uproar. 
They  searched  the  room  from  end  to  end ;  they 
tore  down  all  the  old  tapestries  ;  they  peered 
under  all  the  chairs ;  they  climbed  up  and 
crawled  all  over  the  high  canopy  of  the  ancient 
bed  ;  they  shook  the  mattresses;  and  in  their 
zeal,  even  looked  in  the  count's  shaving  mug 
and  under  the  brass  candlesticks. 

Meantime,    Hugo    himself,   in    a   towering 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        109 

passion,  was  striding  up  and  down  the  room, 
cuffing  his  pages,  accusing  everybody  of  rob 
bery,  and  threatening  right  and  left  to  hang 
every  man  of  them  if  the  sword  were  not  in 
stantly  found ! 

At  last,  however,  neither  threats  nor  rage 
proving  of  the  least  avail  in  bringing  to  light 
the  lost  sword,  he  descended,  followed  by  his 
terrified  retinue,  to  the  inn  court-yard,  and  call 
ing  out  Monsieur  Jean,  he  stirred  up  another 
terrible  commotion.  He  accused  everybody  of 
everything,  and  finally  wound  up  by  insisting 
that  the  craven  Count  Boni  had  hired  some 
robber  to  steal  the  sword  in  hopes  that  the  duel 
might  not  be  fought.  He  swore  that  he  would 
none  the  less  kill  poor  Boni,  sword  or  no 
sword,  and  meantime  ordered  the  man-at-arms, 
who  had  slept  outside  his  door,  to  be  merci 
lessly  beaten ;  for  Hugo  declared  the  thief  must 
have  entered  through  the  door,  as  no  man 
could  possibly  have  come  in  between  the  bars  of 
the  window. 


no  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

At  this  Geoffrey,  who  had  been  up  for  a  long 
while,  and  had  witnessed  all  this  uproar  in  the 
courtyard,  felt  himself  in  a  very  unhappy  posi 
tion  ;  he  had  not  expected  all  this.  Indeed, 
he  had  given  very  little  thought  as  to  what 
might  happen  to  himself  or  anybody  else,  when 
once  he  had  hidden  the  sword.  He  knew  now 
that  fearful  punishment  awaited  him  if  he  were 
found  out ;  but  he  could  not  bear  to  have  the 
good  Count  Boni's  honor  blackened,  or  that 
the  poor  man-at-arms,  who  was  entirely  inno 
cent  of  blame,  should  suffer,  because  of  what 
he,  Geoffrey,  had  done. 

So  biting  his  lips  hard  to  keep  up  his  courage 
and  tightly  clenching  his  hands  behind  him, 
Geoffrey,  who  was  a  brave,  manly  little  fellow, 
straightway  strode  out  and,  standing  in  front  of 
the  raging  Count  Hugo,  said : 

"Sir,  neither  Count  Boni  nor  yonder  man- 
at-arms  had  aught  to  do  with  the  loss  of  your 
evil  sword.  I  took  it  away  myself!" 

At  this  Count  Hugo  stared  at  the  little  boy 


^ 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        in 

for  a  moment  in  speechless  surprise.  Then, 
roaring  out  a  terrible  oath  in  a  voice  like  thun 
der,  he  pounced  like  a  wildcat  upon  poor 
Geoffrey,  and  shook  him  till  his  teeth  chat 
tered. 

"Thou — thou — miserable  varlet!"  roared 
and  sputtered  the  count.  "Thou  base-born 
knave  1  So  thy  monkey  fingers  have  dared  to 
meddle  with  my  precious  sword  !  Faugh  ! 
Where  hast  thou  put  it?  Tell  me  instantly, — 
•parbleul — or  I  will  crack  every  bone  in  thy 
worthless  body  ! ' ; 

And  here  he  fell  so  viciously  to  shaking  and 
cuffing  him  again,  that  poor  Geoffrey  could 
hardly  open  his  mouth  to  answer ;  but  at  length 
he  managed  to  gasp  out  resolutely : 

"  I  will  not  tell  thee  till  to-morrow.  Then  I 
will  restore  it  to  thee  !  I  do  not  wish  to  keep 
the  heathenish  thing ! " 

At  this  the  rage  of  the  count  knew  no  bounds, 
and  he  doubtless  would  have  killed  the  poor 
little  boy  then  and  there,  had  not  Monsieur 


ii2  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

Jean  and  others  among  the  terrified  spectators 
rushed  between  them  and  besought  Hugo  to 
be  merciful,  and  give  the  boy  at  least  till  the 
morrow  to  fulfil  his  word. 

Hereupon,  the  count,  who  even  in  his  wrath 
saw  reason  in  what  they  said,  savagely  flung 
Geoffrey  over  to  one  of  his  men-at-arms,  com 
manding  him  to  chastise  him,  chain  him,  and 
keep  close  watch  over  him  till  the  morrow. 
For  the  count  reflected  that  if  he  should  hang 
the  boy  then,  as  he  fully  intended  to  do  by  and 
by,  he  would  cut  off  the  only  possible  means  of 
finding  out  where  his  sword  was  hidden.  For 
while  the  lad  was  stubborn  as  a  rock,  Hugo 
had  to  admit  that  he  seemed  honest,  and  so 
perhaps  would  keep  his  promise  to  restore  his 
prized  weapon. 

But  the  more  the  count  thought  of  Geoffrey's 
act,  the  more  it  puzzled  him  to  account  for  it. 
As  he  recalled  the  disturbance  of  his  sleep  the 
night  before,  he  began  to  understand  that  Geof 
frey  was  the  real  cockatoo  of  the  affair. 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        113 

"  Faugh  I "  he  said  to  himself,  "to  think 
'twas  the  clanking  of  my  own  good  sword  that 
I  mistook  for  the  rattling  of  that  chattering 
popinjay's  chain  !  "  But  he  could  not  account 
for  the  boy's  curious  promise  to  restore  the 
weapon  on  the  morrow.  If  he  meant  to  return 
it,  why  did  he  take  it  at  all?  And  why  did 
he  confess  and  get  himself  into  trouble,  when 
no  one  thought  of  accusing  him?  The  first 
part  of  this  question  Count  Hugo  could  not  an 
swer,  because  he  knew  nothing  of  the  coming 
of  the  heralds  and  Geoffrey's  wish  to  put  off 
the  duel ;  while  the  last  part  was  equally  puz 
zling  to  him,  because  he  had  no  sense  of  honor, 
and  could  not  see  why  one  should  suffer  if  an 
innocent  man  would  do  just  as  well. 

At  any  rate,  he  soon  tired  trying  to  under 
stand  the  matter.  Having  placed  the  boy  in 
safe  keeping  till  the  morrow,  the  next  thing 
was  to  have  his  "  second" — (for  so  the  friends 
were  called  who  arranged  the  details  of  duels 
for  those  who  were  to  do  the  fighting) — see 


ii4  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

Count  Boni's  second,  who  had  arrived  some 
time  before,  and  have  the  duel  fixed  for  the 
following  morning,  when  Count  Hugo  vowed 
he  would  fight  to  the  death  with  somebody's 
sword, — whether  his  own  or  another's. 

These  matters  settled,  he  remembered  that 
it  was  fully  noon,  and  he  had  not  yet  break 
fasted  ;  so  he  haughtily  withdrew  to  the  inn 
parlor,  and  commanded  Monsieur  Jean  to  have 
him  served  instantly. 

Meanwhile  poor  Geoffrey  went  off  with  the 
man-at-arms,  who  was  secretly  sorry  for  the 
little  boy,  and  so  did  not  chastise  him  so  cruelly 
as  the  count  would  have  wished ;  although  he 
was  obliged  to  give  him  a  few  bloody  cuts  with 
the  lash  across  his  face  and  hands,  for  the  sake 
of  appearances,  in  case  Hugo  should  happen  to 
inspect  him. 

Poor  little  boy !  Ah !  how  eagerly  he  longed 
for  the  arrival  of  the  heralds,  as  the  jongleur 
had  predicted.  But  then  the  dreadful  thought 
would  come,  what  if  something  should  delay 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        115 

their  journey!  Or  worst  of  all,  what  if  the 
jongleur  had  not  spoken  the  truth,  and  there 
were  no  heralds  anyway !  These  doubts  and 
fears  tormented  Geoffrey  more  and  more  as  the 
hours  wore  on,  and  still  no  sign  of  the  longed- 
for  king's  messengers. 

He  began  to  wish  dismally  that  he  had  set 
farther  off  the  time  for  restoring  the  sword; 
though  he  felt  sure  that  unless  prevented  by 
the  king's  edict,  Count  Hugo  would  fight  on 
the  morrow  anyhow,  despite  the  loss  of  that  par 
ticular  weapon.  It  then  suddenly  occurred  to 
him,  that  even  if  the  heralds  came  and  stopped 
the  duel  as  he  wished,  how  was  he  himself  to 
escape  from  the  clutches  of  Count  Hugo  ?  This 
thought  sent  a  cold  chill  through  him;  but 
when  he  thought  of  his  dear  Count  Boni  and 
the  grief  of  poor  little  Isabeau,  he  was  not  a 
whit  sorry  for  what  he  had  done,  and  with  child 
ish  hopefulness  looked  forward  to  some  good 
chance  to  free  him. 

Surely,  surely,  he  said  to  himself,  the  king's 


n6  TROUBADOUR   TALES 

heralds  were  persons  in  authority,  and  would 
not  see  him  killed  by  the  cruel  Hugo,  even  if 
he  had  taken  and  hidden  the  heathenish  old 
sword.  Did  he  not  mean  to  give  it  back,  and 
had  he  not  done  it  because  of  the  very  law  they 
were  coming  to  proclaim?  Surely  they  would 
help  him  in  some  way ! 

And  so  the  afternoon  wore  wearily  on.  Count 
Hugo  came  once  or  twice  to  see  that  the  man- 
at-arms  had  properly  beaten  him,  and  even 
meditated  putting  him  to  some  torture  to  make 
him  disclose  at  once  the  whereabouts  of  the 
sword.  But  he  scarcely  dared,  as  he  feared  an 
uprising  of  the  people  of  the  inn,  who,  he 
saw,  were  very  fond  of  Geoffrey;  so  he  con 
tented  himself  with  cruelly  striking  the  lad 
once  or  twice,  and  determining  to  deal  sum 
marily  with  him  when  he  should  take  him  away 
from  Dives. 

For  at  that  time  powerful  noblemen  did  very 
much  as  they  pleased.  The  good  King  Louis 
had  been  away  fighting  in  the  Holy  Land  for 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        117 

so  long  that  affairs  in  France  had  for  the  most 
part  taken  care  of  themselves ;  and  though  since 
his  return  the  king  was  striving  hard  to  correct 
many  abuses,  there  were  many  things  yet  to 
be  looked  after.  So  Count  Hugo  thought  he 
should  have  no  trouble  in  carrying  Geoffrey 
away  as  his  private  prisoner  because  of  the  tak 
ing  of  his  sword. 

After  the  count's  last  visit,  when  he  had  in 
formed  Geoffrey  of  some  of  the  punishments  he 
meant  to  visit  upon  him  when  he  got  him  off  in 
his  own  castle,  the  poor  boy  began  really  to 
despair !  It  was  growing  late,  and  the  sun  was 
almost  to  its  setting,  and  still  not  a  sound  to 
tell  of  any  unusual  arrival  in  Dives.  The  little 
boy  lay  back,  and  shut  his  eyes  tight,  trying  to 
forget  his  miseries,  and  the  dreadful  things 
ahead  of  him ;  but  try  as  he  might,  now  and 
then  a  big  tear  would  force  itself  through  his 
closed  lids,  and  trickle  down  his  poor  little 
blood-stained  cheeks. 

And  so  another  hour  wore  on,  Geoffrey  grow- 


n8  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

ing  all  the  while  more  despairing  and  miserable 
in  his  gloomy  prospects.  But  at  last,  just  as  he 
had  given  up  all  hope  of  the  heralds,  and  con 
cluded  that  the  plight  he  had  got  himself  into 
had  been  all  useless  after  all, — he  suddenly 
started  up,  and  clutching  the  sleeve  of  the  man- 
at-arms,  exclaimed,  "  Hark  !  what  is  that?  " 

"Hush,  hush,  little  one!  'tis  nothing,"  said 
the  man,  who  was  a  stupid  fellow,  half  dozing, 
and  merely  thought  the  lad  crazed  by  his  fright. 

"  Nay !  "  cried  Geoffrey,  "  but  listen  !  " 

Here  the  guard  somewhat  pricked  up  his 
ears. 

"  By  my  faith  !  "  he  answered,  "  I  believe 
'tis  a  blare  of  trumpets  !  Some  noble  must 
be  coming  to  Dives  !  " 

But  Geoffrey,  with  eyes  shining,  held  his 
breath,  and  listened  to  the  sounds,  which 
seemed  to  be  coming  nearer.  First  there  was 
a  great  fanfare  of  trumpets;  then  a  blare  of 
horns ;  and  then  he  could  hear  the  clatter  as 
the  inn  folk  hastened  across  the  paved  courtyard 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD         119 

to  the  gateway  to  see  what  was  going  on  in  the 
street  without.  In  a  little  while  some  of  them 
seemed  to  return,  and  Geoffrey,  who  was  burn 
ing  to  know,  but  could  not  stir  for  his  chains, 
besought  the  man-at-arms  to  ask  some  one  the 
cause  of  the  commotion ;  so  going  over  to  the 
window  of  the  room,  he  called  out  to  a  passer- 

by- 

"  Ho,  comrade !  what  is  the  meaning  of 
yonder  uproar?  " 

"  'Tis  the  king's  heralds,"  answered  the 
voice  from  without;  "  he  hath  sent  them  to 
proclaim  a  new  law  forbidding  duels  !  " 

Then,  before  long,  the  heralds,  having  made 
the  tour  of  the  Dives  streets,  came  riding  to 
ward  the  inn,  escorted  by  a  train  of  Dives 
people.  Geoffrey  heard  their  horses'  hoofs  as 
they  pricked  in  through  the  gateway,  and  also 
had  the  great  joy  of  hearing  them  make  the 
proclamation  itself ;  for  having  heard  that  at 
that  very  moment  a  nobleman  was  lodging  in 
the  inn,  come  there  for  the  purpose  of  a  now 


120  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

unlawful  duel,  they  halted  in  the  middle  of  the 
courtyard,  and  rising  in  their  stirrups,  blew 
their  trumpets,  and  again  elaborately  an 
nounced  the  royal  edict, — this  time  for  the  ex 
press  benefit  of  their  two  countships,  Hugo  and 
Boni. 

Hearing  this,  Geoffrey  was  wild  with  de 
light;  it  was  all  working  out  just  as  he  had 
counted  on!  That  is,  all  but  one  fact,  which 
he  all  at  once  ruefully  remembered  ;  he  him 
self  was  at  that  moment  still  a  prisoner  of  the 
cruel  Count  Hugo.  He  had  not  counted  on 
that  at  all ! 

O,  he  thought,  if  he  could  only  get  out  and 
throw  himself  on  the  mercy  of  the  heralds ! 
They  were  his  only  hope ;  for  Count  Boni  as 
yet  knew  not  why  he  had  taken  the  sword, 
and  was  perhaps  angry  with  him  and  would 
not  come  at  once  to  help  him.  So  he  pite- 
ously  begged  and  besought  the  man-at-arms 
to  take  off  his  chains  and  let  him  go  only  so 
far  as  the  courtyard.  But  the  man,  though  he 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD         121 

felt  sorry  for  the  boy,  had  too  hearty  a  terror 
of  the  consequences  to  himself  if  he  let  him  out 
against  Hugo's  orders ;  so  he  turned  a  deaf  ear 
to  all  Geoffrey's  entreaties,  and  gruffly  told 
him  he  could  do  nothing  for  him. 

At  this  the  poor  little  boy  fell  to  sobbing, 
and  sobbed  and  sobbed  most  of  the  night ;  for 
the  dark  had  now  fallen,  and  the  little  fellow 
was  quite  hopeless  for  the  morrow,  when  he 
knew  Count  Hugo  meant  to  take  him  away. 

Meantime,  that  nobleman  had  passed  into 
another  terrible  rage  when  he  heard  the  edict 
of  the  heralds.  He  was  furious  !  Furious  at 
the  king,  the  heralds,  at  Geoffrey  and  the 
world  in  general ;  because  he  saw  himself 
thwarted  in  his  plans  to  kill  Boni, — as  he  felt 
confident  he  could  do,  with  his  unholy  skill  with 
the  sword, — and  to  seize  Boni's  rich  estate.  All 
this  put  him  in  a  frightful  temper  ;  although  he 
was  wise  enough  to  know  that  he  dare  not  defy 
the  king.  So  he  scolded  and  swore  at  every 
body  in  sight,  and  then  sulkily  withdrew  to  his 


122  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

own  apartments,  after  giving  orders  to  have  his 
coach  made  ready  to  leave  early  in  the  morn 
ing  ;  for  he  wished  to  get  off  with  Geoffrey  at 
least,  before  any  one  could  prevent  that  I  And 
on  the  boy  he  meant  to  wreak  full  vengeance. 

So  the  next  morning  Hugo,  contrary  to  his 
custom,  was  astir  early  ;  he  had  breakfasted  in 
his  room,  and  then  hastening  down  to  the 
courtyard,  got  into  his  yellow  coach  and  sent 
instant  orders  for  the  man-at-arms  to  bring 
Geoffrey  and  mount  the  coach  also;  for  he 
wished  to  keep  an  eye  on  his  victim  and  also  to 
demand  fulfilment  of  his  promise  to  restore  the 
sword.  But  just  as  the  man-at-arms  was  on 
his  way  to  the  count,  with  his  miserable  little 
prisoner,  he  was  intercepted  by  the  two  heralds, 
who  had  been  astir  earlier  even  than  Hugo. 

Indeed,  they  were  up  because  they  had  had 
a  word  or  two  put  into  their  ears  the  night  be 
fore  by  the  jongleur,  who  had  sought  them  out 
and  had  a  bit  of  a  talk  with  them.  Now  the 
jongleur  was  a  shrewd  fellow,  and  recalling  his 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD         123 

conversation  under  the  plane-tree  with  Geof 
frey,  had  put  two  and  two  together,  and  had 
pretty  well  understood  the  boy's  reasons  for 
carrying  off  the  sword;  and  admiring  him,  he  had 
determined  to  do  the  best  he  could  to  save  him, 
if  explaining  things  to  the  heralds  could  effect 
this.  And  it  seemed  it  could  ;  for  now  the  her 
alds,  laying  hold  of  the  boy,  first  asked  him  if 
he  had  restored  the  stolen  sword. 

"  Nay,  sirs,"  he  answered,  "  but  I  will  right 
gladly  do  as  I  promised,  if  ye  will  let  me  go 
and  get  it  1 " 

So  one  of  the  heralds  went  with  him  down 
into  the  garden,  and  stood  over  Geoffrey  as  he 
uncovered  the  weapon  and  gathered  it  up  still 
safe  in  its  scabbard.  Then  conducting  him  back 
to  the  courtyard,  and  to  the  door  of  the  count's 
coach,  the  two  king's  messengers  stood,  one  on 
each  side,  as  the  boy,  making  an  obeisance, 
presented  the  sword  to  the  glowering  count. 

The  heralds  then  solemnly  announced  to  all, 
— for  everyone  in  the  inn  had  gathered  about  by 


i24  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

this  time, — that  they  bore  witness  that  the  lad 
had  duly  restored  the  stolen  property  to  its 
rightful  owner;  and  that  punishment  for  his 
taking  it  must  be  meted  out  by  his  rightful 
suzerain,  the  noble  Count  Boni,  to  whose  es 
tate  the  boy's  family  belonged.  They  de 
manded  this  right  for  Geoffrey,  in  the  name  of 
the  king. 

Now  Count  Hugo  knew  well  enough  that 
every  peasant  had  a  right  to  be  tried  for  a 
crime  by  the  nobleman  of  his  own  home ;  but 
he  had  trusted  to  carry  things  off  with  a  high 
hand,  thinking  no  one  at  the  inn  would  dare 
oppose  him ;  as  was  undoubtedly  the  case.  But 
with  the  king's  heralds  it  was  different;  they 
did  not  fear  him,  and  so  he  was  obliged  to  give 
up  the  boy. 

This  last  thwarting  of  his  plans,  however, 
was  almost  too  much  for  Hugo  !  White  with 
rage,  he  thundered  to  his  driver  to  whip  up  the 
horses,  and  off  he  clattered,  disdainfully  turn 
ing  his  back  on  the  Guillaume-le-Conquerant 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        125 

inn  and  all  that  it  contained ;  and  his  swarm  of 
retainers  followed  him,  all  quaking  in  their 
boots  from  fear  of  their  master's  violent  temper. 

After  the  count's  departure,  Geoffrey,  still  in 
charge  of  the  heralds,  was  taken  into  the  great 
kitchen  of  the  inn,  where  everybody  gathered 
about,  delighted  at  the  little  boy's  escape  from 
Hugo's  clutches.  The  cook  gave  him  some 
nice  little  cakes  fresh  from  the  oven ;  the  pea 
cocks  trailed  past  the  open  door  proudly  spread 
ing  their  beautiful  tails ;  and  the  pink  and  white 
cockatoo  overhead  screamed  his  "Tee  deedle  1" 
and  seemed  as  pleased  as  anybody. 

After  a  while  the  heralds  gave  Geoffrey 
over  into  the  charge  of  Count  Boni's  second, 
who  had  meantime  arrived  to  say  that  the 
count  was  outside  the  walls  of  Dives,  at  the  ap 
pointed  place,  and  ready  to  meet  Hugo  in  the 
proposed  duel.  The  second  was  greatly  sur 
prised  when  he  heard  how  matters  had  turned 
out ;  for  he  had  spent  the  day  before  with 
Count  Boni  at  the  Chateau  Beauvais,  and 


126  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

neither  he  nor  his  master  had  yet  heard  of  the 
proclamation  or  the  subsequent  departure  oi 
Count  Hugo.  However,  he  took  the  little  boy 
with  him  back  to  Count  Boni,  to  whom  he  de 
livered  the  message  the  heralds  had  sent :  that 
he,  Boni,  was  to  decide  on  what  punishment 
Geoffrey  was  to  receive  for  the  taking  of  Hugo's 
sword ;  though  it  really  seemed  that  the  child 
had  had  punishment  enough  already,  at  the 
hands  of  the  cruel  count  himself ! 

When  Count  Boni  was  told  all  these  things,  at 
first  he  was  greatly  displeased;  for  he  was  young 
and  high-spirited,  and  very  angry  with  Hugo, 
whom  he  wished  to  fight  regardless  of  the  dan 
ger  he  ran  from  such  an  unscrupulous  antago 
nist,  and  he  did  not  like  it  that  a  little  peasant 
boy  had  interfered. 

Though  when  he  understood  how  much  the 
boy  had  risked  and  suffered  for  love  of  himself 
and  little  Isabeau,  he  could  not  find  it  in  his 
heart  to  wish  Geoffrey  punished.  And  indeed, 
in  after  years  he  came  heartily  to  thank  the 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        127 

warm-hearted,  devoted  little  lad,  whose  impul 
sive  act  had  no  doubt  kept  him  from  losing 
both  life  and  property  to  a  wicked  and  dishon 
orable  man. 

Meantime  Count  Boni  felt  himself  in  a  very 
delicate  position.  As  Geoffrey's  overlord,  it  was 
his  duty  to  punish  him  for  taking  the  sword, 
even  though  it  had  been  restored  to  its  rightful 
owner ;  but  as  the  sword  had  been  taken  be 
cause  the  little  boy  wished  to  keep  Count  Boni 
himself  from  the  chance  of  being  killed,  how 
could  he  inflict  severe  punishment  upon  him? 
Indeed,  this  question  was  so  difficult  that  the 
count  concluded  he  must  take  time  to  think  it 
over,  and  meantime  he  held  Geoffrey  prisoner 
at  the  chateau.  This  did  not  prevent  the 
boy  from  having  the  kindest  treatment  and 
the  freedom  of  the  grounds,  where  he  enjoyed 
many  a  merry  romp  with  little  Isabeau,  who 
was  happy  as  a  bird,  and  thought  Geoffrey 
the  nicest  and  most  wonderful  boy  in  all  the 
world  because  he  had  succeeded  in  preventing 


128  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

the  duel.  Nor  was  the  least  cloud  cast  over  their 
glee  when  one  day  they  heard  that  the  wicked 
Hugo  had  died  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy,  brought 
on  by  one  of  his  terrible  rages.  In  fact,  if  the 
truth  must  be  told,  they  went  off  by  themselves 
and  had  a  shamelessly  gay  extra  romp  in  cele 
bration  of  the  news. 

Thus  several  weeks  had  passed,  when  one  day 
there  arrived  at  the  chateau  a  messenger  from 
the  king,  demanding  the  custody  of  a  peasant 
boy  by  the  name  of  Geoffrey. 

Poor  Geoffrey  was  again  badly  frightened, 
thinking  that  this  time  surely  he  would  receive 
punishment !  But  his  fears  were  turned  to  de 
light  when  Count  Boni  told  him  that  the  king 
had  sent,  not  to  imprison  him,  but  to  have  him 
live  in  the  royal  household.  The  messenger 
explained  to  Boni  that  when  the  heralds  re 
turned  to  Paris,  they  told  King  Louis  the  story 
of  the  little  boy,  and  that  he  was  greatly  pleased 
with  the  lad's  bravery  and  devotion,  and  wished 
to  have  him  brought  to  the  palace. 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD        129 

So  Geoffrey  became  a  page  of  King  Louis, 
and  was  very,  very  happy.  He  was  happy,  too, 
because  he  could  now  send  back  to  those  he 
loved  at  home  much  more  for  their  comfort  than 
he  could  as  a  little  serving  boy  at  the  Guillaume- 
le-Conquerant  inn.  And  then,  sometimes, 
when  one  of  his  messengers  had  an  errand  to 
Dives,  the  good  king  would  let  Geoffrey  go 
along,  and  he  would  then  make  a  little  visit  to 
his  family,  and  would  see  his  dear  Count  Boni 
and  little  Isabeau,  who  never  ceased  to  take 
the  greatest  pride  and  interest  in  him. 

By  and  by,  King  Louis  discovered  how 
sweet  a. voice  he  possessed,  and  that  it  had 
been  well-trained  for  church  music.  This 
pleased  the  king  much,  as  he  was  very  devout 
in  his  worship,  and  did  a  great  deal  during  his 
reign  to  improve  the  music  in  the  cathedrals  of 
France.  So  Geoffrey  was  at  once  placed  under 
masters,  and  he  sang  for  a  number  of  years  in 
the  king's  own  chapel,  becoming  one  of  the 
most  famous  little  choristers  of  the  realm. 


130  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

Later  on,  as  he  grew  to  manhood,  he  passed 
from  being  a  page,  to  a  squire  ;  and  after  that, 
he  was  appointed  man-at-arms  in  the  body 
guard  of  the  king,  who  grew  to  love  and  trust 
him  greatly. 

Some  years  later  still,  when  King  Louis  again 
set  forth  for  the  East,  on  the  crusade  from  which 
he  was  never  to  return,  Geoffrey  was  among 
the  most  faithful  of  the  followers  who  took  ship 
with  him.  And  when  the  poor  king  lay  dying, 
before  the  walls  of  the  far-away  city  of  Tunis, 
it  was  Geoffrey  whose  tenderness  and  devotion 
helped  to  comfort  the  last  days  of  the  stricken 
monarch. 

When  all  was  over,  and  the  little  band  of 
crusaders  once  more  returned  to  their  homes  in 
France,  none  among  them  was  more  loved  and 
respected  than  the  Viscount  Geoffrey  •  for  short 
ly  before  his  death  the  good  King  Louis  had, 
with  his  own  hand,  bestowed  knighthood  upon 
the  little  peasant  boy,  declaring  that  he  had  won 
the  distinction,  not  only  because  of  his  great 


COUNT  HUGO'S  SWORD         131 

bravery  and  his  honorable  life,  but  also  because 
of  the  exceeding  sweetness  and  gentleness  of 
his  character. 


FELIX 

WHO  SOUGHT  HIS  LOST  SHEEP  AT  CHRISTMAS- 
TIDE  BY  A  WAY  THAT  LED  TO  HIS 
HEART'S   DESIRE  AND   MADE 
HIM  A  FAMOUS  CARVER 
OF  OLD  PROVENCE 

* 

A  very  long  while  ago,  perhaps  as  many  as 
two  hundred  years,  the  little  Provencal  village 
of  Sur  Varne  was  all  bustle  and  stir,  for  it  was 
the  week  before  Christmas  •  and  in  all  the  world, 
no  one  has  known  better  how  to  keep  the  joy 
ous  holiday  than  have  the  happy-hearted  people 
of  Provence. 

Everybody  was  busy,  hurrying  to  and  fro, 
gathering  garlands  of  myrtle  and  laurel,  bring 
ing  home  Yule  logs  with  pretty  old  songs  and 

132 


FELIX  133 

ceremonies,  and  in  various  ways  making  ready 
for  the  all-important  festival. 

Not  a  house  in  Sur  Varne  but  in  some  man 
ner  told  the  coming  of  the  blessed  birthday,  and 
especially  were  there  great  preparations  in  the 
cottage  of  the  shepherd,  Pere  Michaud.  This 
cottage,  covered  with  white  stucco,  and  thatched 
with  long  marsh-grass,  stood  at  the  edge  of  the 
village ;  olive  and  mulberry  trees  clustered  about 
it,  and  a  wild  jasmine  vine  clambered  over  the 
doorway,  while  on  this  particular  morning  all 
around  the  low  projecting  eaves  hung  a  row  of 
tiny  wheat-sheaves,  swinging  in  the  crisp  De 
cember  air,  and  twinkling  in  the  sunlight  like 
a  golden  fringe.  For  the  Pere  Michaud  had 
been  up  betimes,  making  ready  the  Christmas 
feast  for  the  birds,  which  no  Proven£al  peasant 
ever  forgets  at  this  gracious  season ;  and  the 
birds  knew  it,  for  already  dozens  of  saucy  robins 
and  linnets  and  fieldfares  were  gathering  in  the 
Pere's  mulberry-trees,  their  mouths  fairly  water 
ing  with  anticipation. 


134  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

Within  the  cottage  the  good  dame,  the  Mise 
Michaud,  with  wide  sleeves  rolled  up  and  kirtle 
tucked  back,  was  hard  at  work  making  all 
manner  of  holiday  sweetmeats ;  while  in  the  huge 
oven  beside  the  blazing  hearth  the  great  Christ 
mas  cakes  were  baking,  the  famous  pompou  and 
almond  pates,  dear  to  the  hearts  of  the  children 
of  old  Provence. 

Now  and  then,  as  the  cottage  door  swung 
open  on  the  dame's  various  errands,  one  might 
hear  a  faint  "Baa,  baa!"  from  the  sheepfold, 
where  little  Felix  Michaud  was  very  busy  also. 

Through  the  crevices  of  its  weather-beaten 
boards  came  the  sound  of  vigorous  scrubbing 
of  wool,  and  sometimes  an  impatient  "Ninette  ! 
Ninette  ! — thou  silly  sheep  1  Wilt  thou  never 
stand  still?  "  Or  else,  in  a  softer  tone,  an  eager 
"  Beppo,  my  little  Beppo,  dost  thou  know? 
Dost  thou  know?"  To  all  of  which  there  would 
come  no  answer  save  the  lamb's  weak  little 
"Baa,  baa!" 

For  Ninette,  Beppo's  mother,  was  a  silly  old 


FELIX  135 

sheep,  and  Beppo  was  a  very  little  lamb ;  and 
so  they  could  not  possibly  be  expected  to  know 
what  a  great  honor  had  suddenly  befallen  them. 
They  did  not  dream  that,  the  night  before,  Pere 
Michaud  had  told  Felix  that  his  Beppo  (for 
Beppo  was  Felix's  very  own)  had  been  chosen 
by  the  shepherds  for  the  "offered  lamb"  of  the 
Christmas  Eve  procession  when  the  holy  mid 
night  mass  would  be  celebrated  in  all  its  festival 
splendor  in  the  great  church  of  the  village. 

Of  the  importance  of  this  procession  in  the 
eyes  of  the  peasant  folk  it  is  difficult  to  say 
enough.  To  be  the  offered  lamb,  or  indeed  the 
offered  lamb's  mother,  for  both  always  went 
together,  was  the  greatest  honor  and  glory  that 
could  possibly  happen  to  a  Proven£al  sheep,  and 
so  little  Felix  was  fairly  bursting  with  pride  and 
delight.  And  so  it  was,  too,  that  he  was  now 
busying  himself  washing  their  wool,  which  he 
determined  should  shine  like  spun  silver  on  the 
great  night. 

He  tugged  away,  scrubbing  and  brushing  and 


136  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

combing  the  thick  fleeces,  now  and  then  stop 
ping  to  stroke  Beppo's  nose,  or  to  box  Ninette's 
ears  when  she  became  too  impatient,  and  at  last, 
after  much  labor,  considered  their  toilets  done 
for  the  day ;  then,  giving  each  a  handful  of 
fresh  hay  to  nibble,  he  left  the  fold  and  trudged 
into  the  cottage. 

"  Well,  little  one,"  said  the  Mise,  "  hast  thou 
finished  thy  work?" 

"Yes,  mother,"  answered  Felix;  "and  I  shall 
scrub  them  so  each  day  till  the  Holy  Night  I 
Even  now  Ninette  is  white  as  milk,  and  Beppo 
shines  like  an  angel !  Ah,  but  I  shall  be  proud 
when  he  rides  up  to  the  altar  in  his  little  cart ! 
And,  mother,  dost  thou  not  really  think  him  far 
handsomer  than  was  Jean's  lamb,  that  stupid 
Nano,  in  the  procession  last  year?  ': 

"  There,  there,"  said  the  Mise,  "  never  thou 
mind  about  Jean's  lamb,  but  run  along  now 
and  finish  thy  creche." 

Now,  in  Provence,  at  the  time  when  Felix 
lived ,  no  one  had  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing 


FELIX  137 

as  a  Christmas  tree ;  but  in  its  stead  every  cot 
tage  had  a  "  creche  " ;  that  is,  in  one  corner  of 
the  great  living-room,  the  room  of  the  fireplace, 
the  peasant  children  and  their  fathers  and  moth 
ers  built  upon  a  table  a  mimic  village  of  Beth 
lehem,  with  houses  and  people  and  animals,  and, 
above  all,  with  the  manger,  where  the  Christ 
Child  lay.  Every  one  took  the  greatest  pains 
to  make  the  creche  as  perfect  as  possible,  and 
some  even  went  so  far  as  to  fasten  tiny  angels 
to  the  rafters,  so  that  they  hovered  over  the  toy 
houses  like  a  flock  of  white  butterflies ;  and  some 
times  a  gold  star,  hung  on  a  golden  thread, 
quivered  over  the  little  manger,  in  memory  of 
the  wonderful  star  of  the  Magi. 

In  the  Michaud  cottage  the  creche  was  al 
ready  well  under  way.  In  the  corner  across 
from  the  fireplace  the  Pere  had  built  up  a 
mound,  and  this  Felix  had  covered  with  bits  of 
rock  and  tufts  of  grass,  and  little  green  boughs 
for  trees,  to  represent  the  rocky  hillside  of 
Judea;  then,  half-way  up,  he  began  to  place 


138  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

the  tiny  houses.  These  he  had  cut  out  of 
wood  and  adorned  with  wonderful  carving,  in 
which  he  was  very  skilful.  And  then,  such 
figures  as  he  had  made,  such  quaint  little  men 
and  women,  such  marvelous  animals,  camels 
and  oxen  and  sheep  and  horses,  were  never 
before  seen  in  Sur  Varne.  But  the  figure  on 
which  he  had  lavished  his  utmost  skill  was  that 
of  the  little  Christ  Child,  which  was  not  to  be 
placed  in  the  manger  until  the  Holy  Night  it 
self. 

Felix  kept  this  figure  in  his  blouse  pocket, 
carefully  wrapped  up  in  a  bit  of  wool,  and  he 
spent  all  his  spare  moments  striving  to  give  it 
some  fresh  beauty;  for  I  will  tell  you  a  secret : 
poor  little  Felix  had  a  great  passion  for  carv 
ing,  and  the  one  thing  for  which  he  longed 
above  all  others  was  to  be  allowed  to  appren 
tice  himself  in  the  workshop  of  Pere  Videau, 
who  was  the  master  carver  of  the  village,  and 
whose  beautiful  work  on  the  portals  of  the 
great  church  was  the  admiration  of  Felix's 


FELIX  139 

heart.  He  longed,  too,  for  better  tools  than 
the  rude  little  knife  he  had,  and  for  days  and 
years  in  which  to  learn  to  use  them. 

But  the  Pere  Michaud  had  scant  patience 
with  these  notions  of  the  little  son's.  Once, 
when  Felix  had  ventured  to  speak  to  him  about 
it,  he  had  insisted  rather  sharply  that  he  was  to 
stick  to  his  sheep-tending,  so  that  when  the 
Pere  himself  grew  old  he  could  take  charge  of 
the  flocks  and  keep  the  family  in  bread  •  for 
the  Pere  had  small  faith  in  the  art  of  the  carver 
as  being  able  to  supply  the  big  brown  loaves 
that  the  Mise  baked  every  week  in  the  great 
stone  oven.  So  Felix  was  obliged  to  go  on 
minding  the  flocks ;  but  whenever  he  had  a 
moment  of  his  own,  he  employed  it  in  carving 
a  bit  of  wood  or  chipping  at  a  fragment  of  soft 
stone. 

But  while  I  have  stopped  to  tell  you  all  this, 
he  had  almost  finished  the  creche ;  the  little 
houses  were  all  in  place,  and  the  animals 
grouped  about  the  holy  stable,  or  else  seeming 


140  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

to  crop  the  tufts  of  moss  on  the  mimic  rocky 
hillside.  Over  the  manger  with  its  tiny  wisp  of 
hay,  twinkled  a  wonderful  star  that  Felix  had 
made  from  some  golden  beads  that  the  Mise 
had  treasured  for  years  as  part  of  her  peasant 
bridal  finery. 

Altogether,  the  creche  was  really  very  pret 
tily  arranged,  and  after  giving  several  final 
touches,  Felix  stood  back  and  surveyed  it  with 
much  satisfaction. 

"Well,  well!"  said  the  Pere  Michaud.  who 
had  just  entered  the  cottage,  "  'tis  a  fine  bit  of 
work  thou  hast  there,  my  son  !  Truly  'tis  a 
brave  creche !  But,"  he  added,  "  I  trow  thou 
hast  not  forgotten  the  live  sheep  in  the  fold 
whilst  thou  hast  been  busy  with  these  little 
wooden  images  here?  " 

"  Nay,  father,"  answered  Felix,  "  that  I  have 
not" — but  here  the  Mise  called  them  both  to 
the  midday  meal,  which  she  had  spread  smok 
ing  hot  on  the  shining  deal  table. 

When  this  was  finished  Felix  arose,  and,  as 


FELIX  141 

the  Pere  wished,  once  more  went  out  to  the 
fold  to  see  how  the  sheep,  especially  his  little 
Beppo,  were  faring. 

As  he  pushed  open  the  swinging  door,  Ni 
nette,  who  was  lazily  dozing  with  her  toes 
doubled  up  under  her  fleece,  blinked  her  eyes 
and  looked  sleepily  around ;  but  Beppo  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen. 

"Ninette  1 "  demanded  Felix,  fiercely,  "  what 
hast  thou  done  with  my  Beppo?  " 

At  this  Ninette  peered  about  in  a  dazed  sort 
of  way,  and  gave  an  alarmed  little  "Baa!" 
For  she  had  not  before  missed  Beppo,  who, 
while  she  was  asleep,  had  managed  to  push 
open  the  door  of  the  fold  and  scamper  off,  no 
one  knew  just  where. 

Felix  gazed  around  in  dismay  when  he  real 
ized  that  his  lamb,  the  chosen  one,  who  had 
brought  such  pride  and  honor  to  him,  was  gone  ! 

"  Beppo  ! "  he  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  lungs, 
"Beppo!  Beppo-o ! " 

But  no  trace  could  he  see  of  the  little  bundle 


142  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

of  fleece  he  had  scrubbed  and  combed  so  care 
fully  that  morning. 

He  stood  irresolute  a  moment;  then,  think 
ing  that  if  Beppo  really  were  running  off,  not 
a  second  was  to  be  lost,  he  set  out  at  a  brisk 
pace  across  the  sheep-meadow.  He  had  no 
idea  in  what  direction  the  truant  lamb  would 
be  likely  to  stray,  but  on  he  went,  calling  every 
little  while  in  a  shrill  voice,  "  Beppo  !  "  Now 
and  then  he  fancied  that  he  saw  in  the  distance 
a  glimpse  of  white  •  but  once  it  proved  to  be  the 
Mise  Fouchard's  linen  hung  to  dry  on  a  currant- 
bush,  and  again  it  was  a  great  white  stone — but 
no  Beppo  ;  and  all  the  while  Felix  kept  on,  quite 
forgetting  that  Beppo' s  weak,  woolly  legs  could 
not  possibly  have  carried  him  so  great  a  dis 
tance. 

By  and  by  he  had  left  the  village  meadows 
far  behind,  and  was  skirting  the  great  marsh. 
Sometimes  he  shaded  his  eyes  with  his  hand 
and  looked  far  across  this  low  wet  land  to  see 
if  perhaps  Beppo  had  strayed  into  its  uncertain 


FELIX  143 

foothold ;  but  nothing  could  he  see  but  the  wav 
ing  rushes  and  the  tall  bitterns  wading  about  on 
long,  yellow  legs. 

And  still  he  pressed  heedlessly  on  farther  and 
farther,  till,  after  a  while,  he  found  himself 
thrusting  through  a  thick  coppice  of  willow 
boughs. 

"Oh,"  thought  Felix,  "what  if  poor  Beppo 
has  strayed  into  this  woodland  !  "  Tired  as  he 
was,  he  urged  himself  on,  searching  among  the 
trees ;  and  it  was  not  until  he  had  wandered 
on  and  on,  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  wood, 
that  he  realized  that  the  dusk  had  fallen,  and 
that  he  must  be  a  very,  very  long  way  from 
Sur  Varne. 

Felix  then  began  to  grow  uneasy.  He  stood 
still  and  looked  anxiously  about  him  ;  the  dark 
forest  trees  closed  around  him  on  all  sides,  and 
he  was  quite  unable  to  remember  from  which 
direction  he  had  entered  the  wood. 

Now,  Felix  was  really  a  very  brave  little  fel 
low,  but  it  must  be  owned  his  heart  misgave 


144  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

him,  and  he  fairly  quaked  as  he  peered  through 
the  gathering  darkness ;  for  in  those  days  the 
forests  of  Provence  were  known  to  harbor 
many  dangerous  animals,  especially  wild  boars 
and  wolves.  He  pricked  up  his  ears,  and  now 
and  then  thought  he  heard  in  the  distance  the 
stealthy  tread  of  some  four-footed  forest 
prowler,  and  once  he  was  sure  he  caught  the 
deep  howl  of  a  wolf. 

That  ended  his  hesitation.  He  looked 
quickly  around,  and  grasping  the  low  boughs 
of  a  slender  sapling,  managed  to  swing  himself 
up  into  a  tall  chestnut  tree  that  grew  close 
by;  and  there  he  clung,  clutching  the  thick 
branches  with  might  and  main,  feeling  very 
cold  and  hungry  and  miserable,  his  heart  all 
the  while  sinking  clear  down  into  his  little 
peasant  shoes. 

And  indeed  he  had  cause  for  fear,  for,  not  a 
great  while  after  he  had  thus  hidden  himself,  a 
gaunt  wolf  really  did  pass  close  by,  sniffing  and 


FELIX  145 

peering,  till  poor  Felix  gave  up  all  hope  of  es 
caping  with  his  life ;  but,  luckily,  the  wolf  did 
not  see  him,  and  at  last  slowly  crept  on  through 
the  underwood. 

How  long  the  little  boy  stayed  in  the  peril 
ous  shelter  of  the  chestnut-tree  he  never  knew, 
but  it  seemed  untold  ages  to  him.  After  a 
while  the  moon  rose,  and  shed  a  faint  light 
through  the  close-lapping  branches;  then,  by 
and  by,  Felix's  ears,  strained  to  listen  for 
every  lightest  sound,  caught  the  echo  of  dis 
tant  trampling,  as  of  horses'  hoofs,  and  pres 
ently  two  horsemen  came  in  sight,  pricking 
their  way  cautiously  along  a  narrow  bridle-path. 

He  did  not  know  whom  they  might  prove  to 
be,  but  wisely  thinking  that  anything  would  be 
better  than  staying  in  a  tree  all  night  at  the 
mercy  of  hungry  wolves,  he  waited  till  the  first 
rider  came  quite  close,  and  then  he  plucked  up 
courage  to  call  out  faintly : 

"Oh,  sir,  stop,  I  pray  thee  I  " 


146  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

At  this,  the  rider,  who  was  none  other  than 
the  noble  Count  Bernard  of  Bois  Varne,  quickly 
drew  rein  and,  turning,  called  to  his  companion  : 

"  Ho,  Brian  !     Heardest  thou  aught?  " 

"  Nay,  my  Lord,"  answered  Brian,  who  was 
some  paces  behind,  "naught  save  the  tram 
pling  of  our  own  horses'  hoofs." 

The  count  looked  all  around,  and  seeing 
nothing,  thought  himself  mistaken  in  the  sound, 
and  began  to  pace  on.  Then  Felix  in  terror 
gave  another  shout,  this  time  louder,  and  at  the 
same  moment  a  little  twig  he  was  pressing  with 
his  elbow  broke  away  and  dropped,  striking 
against  the  count's  stirrup ;  for  the  bridle-path 
wound  directly  under  the  tree  where  Felix  was 
perched. 

The  count  instantly  checked  his  horse  again, 
and,  peering  up  into  the  boughs  overhead,  he 
caught  sight  of  Felix,  his  yellow  hair  wet  with 
dew  and  shining  in  the  moonlight,  and  his  dark 
eyes  wide  with  fear. 

"  Heigh-ho  !  "  exclaimed  the  count,  in  blank 


\ 


FELIX  147 

amazement.  "Upon  my  word,  now  !  what  art 
thou — boy  or  goblin?  " 

At  this  Felix  gave  a  little  sob,  for  he  was 
very  tired  and  very  cold.  He  hugged  the  tree 
tightly,  and  steadying  himself  against  the 
boughs,  at  last  managed  to  falter  out : 

11  Please  thee,  sir,  I  am  Felix  Michaud,  and 
my  lamb  Beppo,  who  was  to  ride  in  the  Christ 
mas  procession,  ran  off  to-day,  and — and — I 
have  been  hunting  him,  I  think,  ever  since — 
since  yesterday ! ' :  Here  poor  Felix  grew  a 
trifle  bewildered  ;  it  seemed  to  him  so  very  long 
ago  since  he  had  set  out  in  search  of  Beppo. 
"And  I  live  in  Sur  Varne." 

At  this  the  count  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"At  Sur  Varm.  t  "  he  exclaimed.  "  If  thou 
speakest  truly,  my  little  man,  thou  hast  in 
deed  a  sturdy  pair  of  legs  to  carry  thee  thus 
far."  And  he  eyed  curiously  Felix's  dusty  lit 
tle  feet  and  leathern  leggings,  dangling  limply 
from  the  bough  above  him. 


148  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

"Dost  them  know  how  far  distant  is  Sur 
Varne  from  this  forest?" 

"Nay,  sir,"  answered  Felix  ;  "  but  I  trow  'tis 
a  great  way." 

"  There  thou  art  right,"  said  the  count ; 
"  'tis  a  good  two  leagues,  if  it  is  a  pace.  But 
how  now  ?  Thou  canst  not  bide  here  to  be 
come  the  prey  of  hungry  wolves,  my  little 
night-owl  of  the  yellow  hair  !  " 

And  thereupon  Count  Bernard  dexterously 
raised  himself  in  his  stirrups,  and,  reaching  up 
ward,  caught  Felix  in  his  arms  and  swung  him 
down  plump  on  the  saddle-bow  in  front  of 
him  ;  then,  showing  him  how  to  steady  himself 
by  holding  the  pommel,  he  turned  to  Brian,  his 
squire,  who  while  all  this  was  going  on  had 
stood  by  in  silent  astonishment,  and  giving  the 
order  to  move,  the  little  cavalcade  hastened  on 
at  a  rapid  pace  in  order  to  get  clear  of  the  for 
est  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Meantime  the  Count  Bernard,  who  was 
really  a  very  kind  and  noble  lord,  and  who 


FELIX  149 

lived  in  a  beautiful  castle  on  the  farther  verge  of 
the  forest,  quite  reassured  Felix  by  talking  to 
him  kindly,  and  telling  him  of  the  six  days' 
journey  from  which  he  and  his  squire,  Brian, 
were  just  returning,  and  how  they  had  been  de 
layed  on  the  way  until  nightfall. 

"And,  by  my  faith!"  said  Count  Bernard, 
"  'twas  a  lucky  hour  for  thee  that  snapped  my 
horse's  saddle-girth !  else  we  should  have  passed 
this  wood  by  midday — and  then,  little  popin 
jay,  what  wouldst  thou  have  done  had  we  not 
chanced  along  to  pluck  thee  from  out  thy  chilly 
nest  ?  Hey  ?  Wolves  had  been  but  poor  com 
rades  for  such  as  thee ! ' ' 

At  this  Felix  began  to  shiver,  and  the  count 
hastened  to  add : 

"Nay,  my  little  man,  I  did  but  jest  with 
thee  !  Thou  shalt  sleep  this  night  in  the  strong 
castle  of  Bois  Varne,  with  not  even  a  mouse 
to  fret  thy  yellow  head ;  and,  what  is  more, 
thou  shalt  see  the  fairest  little  maid  that  ever 
thou  hast  set  eyes  on  1 " 


150  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

And  then  he  told  him  of  his  little  daughter, 
the  Lady  Elinor,  and  how  she  would  play  with 
Felix  and  show  him  the  castle,  and  how  on 
the  morrow  they  would  see  about  sending  him 
home  to  Sur  Varne. 

And  all  the  while  the  count  was  talking  they 
were  trotting  briskly  onward,  till  by  and  by 
they  emerged  from  the  forest  and  saw  towering 
near  at  hand  the  castle  of  Bois  Varne.  The 
tall  turrets  shone  and  shimmered  in  the  moon 
light,  and  over  the  gateway  of  the  drawbridge 
hung  a  lighted  cresset — that  is,  a  beautiful 
wrought-iron  basket,  in  which  blazed  a  ruddy 
torch  of  oil  to  light  them  on  their  way. 

At  sight  of  this  the  count  and  Brian  spurred 
on  their  horses,  and  were  soon  clattering  across 
the  bridge  and  into  the  great  paved  courtyard. 
The  count  flung  his  bridle  to  a  little  page  who 
hastened  out  to  meet  him,  and  then,  springing 
from  his  saddle,  lightly  lifted  Felix  and  swung 
him  to  the  ground.  He  then  took  the  boy  by 


FELIX  151 

the  hand  and  led  him  into  the  great  hall  of  the 
castle. 

To  Felix  this  looked  marvelously  beautiful. 
Christmas  garlands  of  myrtle  hung  on  the  walls, 
and  a  great  pile  of  freshly  cut  laurel  boughs  lay 
on  a  bench,  ready  for  the  morrow's  arranging. 
But  that  which  took  his  eyes  most  of  all  was 
the  lovely  carving  everywhere  to  be  seen.  The 
benches  and  tables  were  covered  with  it;  the 
wainscot  of  the  spacious  room  was  .richly 
adorned ;  and  over  and  about  the  wide  fire 
place  great  carved  dragons  of  stone  curled  their 
long  tails  and  spread  their  wings  through  a 
maze  of  intricate  traceries.  Felix  was  en 
chanted,  and  gazed  around  till  his  eyes  almost 
ached. 

Presently  in  came  running  a  little  girl,  laugh 
ing  with  delight.  Bounding  up  into  Count  Ber 
nard's  arms,  she  hugged  and  kissed  him  in  true 
Provencal  fashion.  Then,  catching  sight  of 
Felix : 


152  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

"Ah,  mon  fere"  she  exclaimed,  "and  where 
foundest  thou  thy  pretty  new  page  ?" 

"Nay,  sweetheart,"  answered  the  count, 
looking  down  at  Felix's  yellow  hair,  "  'tis  no 
page,  but  a  little  goldfinch  we  found  perched  in 
a  chestnut  tree  as  we  rode  through  the  forest." 

Then,  smiling  at  the  Lady  Elinor's  bewilder 
ment,  he  told  her  the  little  boy's  story,  and  she 
at  once  slipped  down  and  greeted  him  kindly. 
Then,  clapping  her  hands  with  pleasure  at  find 
ing  a  new  playmate,  she  declared  he  must  come 
to  see  the  Christmas  creche  which  she  was  just 
finishing. 

"Not  so  fast,  ma  chere!r'  interposed  the 
count,  "we  must  sup  first,  for  we  are  famished 
as  the  wolves  we  left  behind  us  in  the  forest." 
And  thereupon  he  called  in  the  steward  of  the 
castle,  who  soon  set  out  a  hearty  supper  on  one 
of  the  long  tables. 

Elinor  sat  close  by,  eagerly  chattering  as  they 
ate,  and  the  moment  Felix  had  swallowed  the 
last  morsel,  she  seized  him  by  the  hand  and 


FELIX  153 

hastened  across  the  hall,  where  her  creche  was 
built  upon  a  carved  bench.  The  poor  little 
Lady  Elinor  had  no  mother,  and  her  father,  the 
count,  had  been  gone  for  several  days ;  and 
although  in  the  castle  were  many  serving  men 
and  women  and  retainers,  yet  none  of  these 
presumed  to  dictate  to  the  little  mistress ;  and 
so  she  had  put  her  creche  together  in  a  very 
odd  fashion. 

" There!"  said  she,  "what  thinkest  thou  of 
it,  Felix?  Of  a  truth,  I  fancy  somewhat  is 
wanting,  yet  I  know  not  how  to  better  it!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Felix,  bashfully,  "it  may  be  I 
can  help  thee." 

And  so  he  set  to  work  rearranging  the  little 
houses  and  figures,  till  he  succeeded  in  giving 
a  life-like  air  to  the  creche,  and  Lady  Elinor 
danced  with  delight. 

While  placing  the  little  manger  he  happened 
to  remember  the  figure  of  the  Christ  Child  still 
in  his  blouse  pocket;  this  he  timidly  took  out 
and  showed  the  little  girl,  who  was  charmed, 


154  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

and  still  more  so  when  he  drew  forth  a  small 
wooden  sheep  and  a  4og,  which  were  also  in 
the  same  pocket,  and  which  he  begged  her  to 
keep. 

The  Lady  Elinor  was  so  carried  away  with 
joy  that  she  flew  to  the  side  of  the  count,  and, 
grasping  both  his  hands,  dragged  him  across 
the  room  to  show  him  the  creche  and  the  won 
derful  figures  carved  by  Felix.  Felix  himself 
was  covered  with  confusion  when  he  saw  the 
count  coming,  and  would  gladly  have  run  from 
the  hall,  but  that  was  impossible;  so  he  stood 
still,  his  eyes  averted  and  his  face  crimson. 

"See,  mon  pere!"  said  Elinor,  "see  this, 
and  this  1 ' '  And  she  held  up  the  carvings  for 
the  count's  inspection. 

Count  Bernard,  who  had  good-naturedly 
crossed  the  room  to  please  his  daughter,  now 
opened  his  eyes  wide  with  surprise.  He  took 
the  little  figures  she  handed  him  and  examined 
them  closely,  for  he  was  a  good  judge  of  artistic 


FELIX  155 

work  of  this  kind.  Then  he  looked  at  Felix, 
and  at  length  he  said : 

"Well,  little  forest  bird,  who  taught  thee  the 
carver's  craft  ?" 

"No  one,  sir,"  faltered  Felix;  "indeed,  I 
wish,  above  all  things,  to  learn  of  the  Pere  Vi- 
deau,  the  master  carver;  but  my  father  says  I 
must  be  a  shepherd,  as  he  is." 

Here  a  tear  rolled  down  Felix's  cheek,  for 
he  was  half  frightened  and  terribly  tired. 

"Well,  well,"  said  the  count,  "never  mind! 
Thou  art  weary,  little  one ;  we  will  talk  of  this 
more  on  the  morrow.  'Tis  high  time  now  that 
both  of  you  were  sound  asleep.  Hey,  there ! 
Jean  !  Jacques  !  Come  hither  and  take  care  of 
this  little  lad,  and  see  to  it  that  he  hath  a  soft 
bed  and  a  feather  pillow !" 

The  next  morning  the  children  ate  a  merry 
breakfast  together,  and  after  it  Count  Bernard 
took  Felix  aside  and  asked  him  many  questions 
of  his  life  and  his  home.  Then,  by  and  by, 


156  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

knowing  how  anxious  the  boy's  parents  would 
be,  he  ordered  his  trusty  squire,  Brian,  to  sad 
dle  a  horse  and  conduct  Felix  back  to  Sur 
Varne. 

Meantime  the  little  Lady  Elinor  begged  hard 
that  he  stay  longer  in  the  castle  for  her  playfel 
low,  and  was  quite  heartbroken  when  she  saw  the 
horse  standing  ready  in  the  courtyard.  Indeed, 
she  would  not  be  satisfied  until  her  father,  the 
count,  who  could  not  bear  to  see  her  unhappy, 
had  promised  to  take  her  over  some  day  to  see 
Felix  in  Sur  Varne.  Then  she  smiled  and  made  a 
pretty  farewell  courtesy,  and  suddenly  snatching 
from  her  dark  hair  a  crimson  ribbon  of  Lyons 
taffeta,  she  tied  it  about  Felix's  sleeve,  declar 
ing: 

"There!  thou  must  keep  this  token,  and 
be  my  little  knight  1"  for  the  Lady  Elinor  had 
many  lofty  notions  in  her  small  curly  head. 

Felix  could  only  stammer  out  an  embarrassed 
good  by,  for  in  the  presence  of  this  lively  little 
maid  he  found  himself  quaking  more  than  when 


FELIX  157 

he  feared  the  terrible  wolves  of  the  forest.  In 
another  moment  Brian  lifted  him  to  the  saddle, 
and,  springing  up  behind,  took  the  bridle-rein, 
and  off  they  went. 

When,  after  several  hours'  riding,  they  drew 
near  Sur  Varne,  Felix  showed  Brian  the  way 
to  the  Michaud  cottage,  and  you  can  fancy  how 
overjoyed  were  the  Pere  and  Mise  to  see  the 
travelers ;  for  they  had  been  nearly  beside  them 
selves  with  grief,  and  had  searched  all  night  for 
their  little  son. 

Of  course  almost  the  first  question  Felix 
asked  was  about  Beppo,  and  he  felt  a  great 
load  taken  oft  his  mind  when  he  learned  that 
the  little  truant,  who  really  had  not  strayed 
very  far  from  the  village,  had  been  found  and 
brought  home  by  one  of  the  shepherds,  and  was 
even  then  penned  up  safe  and  sound  in  the 
sheepfold. 

After  a  good  night's  sleep  Felix  was  quite 
rested  from  his  journey.  He  was  busy  the  next 
day  in  helping  to  garland  the  Yule  log,  in  giving 


158  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

Ninette  and  Beppo  an  extra  scrubbing  and 
brushing,  and  in  all  the  final  happy  prepara 
tions  for  the  great  holiday. 

And  so  Christmas  Eve  came.  It  was  a 
lovely  starlit  night,  and  on  all  sides  one  could 
hear  the  beautiful  Christmas  songs  of  old  Pro 
vence,  that  all  the  peasants  and  the  children  sing 
as  they  troop  along  the  roads  on  their  way  to 
the  great  church  of  the  village  ;  for  thither  every 
one  flocks  as  the  expected  hour  draws  on. 

Within  the  church  all  was  a  blaze  of  light; 
hundreds  of  tall  wax  tapers  shone  and  twinkled 
and  shed  their  golden  glow  over  the  altar,  and 
a  wonderful  creche  with  its  manger  and  almost 
life-size  figures  stood  on  another  special  altar 
of  its  own. 

Then  presently  the  stately  service  began,  and 
went  on  with  song  and  incense,  and  the  sweet 
chanting  of  children's  voices,  till  suddenly  from 
the  upper  tower  of  the  church  a  joyous  peal 
of  bells  rang  in  the  midnight !  All  at  once, 
through  the  dense  throng  of  worshipers  nearest 


FELIX  159 

the  door  a  pathway  opened,  and  in  came  four 
peasants  playing  on  pipes  and  flutes  and  flageo 
lets  a  quaint  old  air  made  up  nearly  three  hun 
dred  years  before  by  good  King  Rene  for  just 
such  a  ceremony  as  was  to  follow. 

After  the  pipers  walked  ten  shepherds,  two 
by  two,  each  wearing  a  long  brown  cloak,  and 
carrying  a  staff  and  lighted  candle  ;  that  is,  all 
save  the  first  two,  and  these  bore,  one  a  basket 
of  fruit,  melons  and  grapes  and  pears  of  sunny 
Provence,  while  the  other  held  in  his  hands  a 
pair  of  pretty  white  pigeons  with  rose-colored 
eyes  and  soft,  fluttering  wings. 

And  then,  behind  the  shepherds  came — what 
do  you  suppose? — Ninette  !  Ninette,  her  fleece 
shining  like  snow,  a  garland  of  laurel  and 
myrtle  about  her  neck,  and  twigs  of  holly  nod 
ding  behind  her  ears ;  while  bound  about  her 
woolly  shoulders  a  little  harness  of  scarlet 
leather  shone  against  the  white  with  dazzling 
effect ;  and  fastened  to  the  harness,  and  trun 
dling  along  at  Ninette's  heels,  came  the  gayest 


160  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

of  little  wooden  carts.  It  was  painted  in  the 
brightest  colors.  Its  wheels  were  wrapped 
with  garlands,  and  in  it,  curled  up  in  a  fat 
fleecy  ball,  lay  Beppo !  Tied  about  his  neck 
in  a  huge  bow  was  a  crimson  ribbon  of  Lyons 
taffeta,  with  a  sprig  of  holly  tucked  into  its 
loops. 

Beppo  lay  quite  still,  looking  about  him  with 
a  bewildered,  half-dazed  expression,  and  just 
behind  his  cart  came  ten  more  shepherds  with 
staves  and  candles,  while  following  them  was 
a  great  throng  of  peasant  folk  and  children, 
among  them  Felix,  all  carrying  lighted  tapers, 
and  radiant  with  delight ;  for  this  was  the  Pro 
cession  of  the  Offered  Lamb,  and  to  walk  in 
its  train  was  considered  by  all  the  greatest  honor 
and  privilege. 

And  especially  did  the  shepherd  folk  love  the 
beautiful  old  custom  which  for  centuries  the 
people  of  Provence  had  cherished  in  memory  of 
the  time,  long  ago,  when  the  real  Christ  Child 
lay  in  the  manger  of  Bethlehem,  and  the  shep- 


FELIX  161 

herds  of  Judea  sought  him  out  to  worship  him, 
and  to  offer  him  their  fruits  and  lambs  as  gifts. 

And  so,  on,  up  the  long  aisle,  the  procession 
slowly  moved;  the  pipers  playing,  and  Ninette 
marching  solemnly  along,  only  now  and  then 
pausing  to  thrust  her  nose  between  the  Pere 
Michaud  and  his  companion,  who  walked  di 
rectly  in  front  of  her.  Ninette  pattered  on  as 
if  she  had  trod  the  floors  of  churches  all  her 
life;  and  as  for  Beppo,  only  once  did  he  stir, 
and  then  he  gave  a  faint  "  Baa !  "  and  tried  to 
uncurl  himself  and  stand  up ;  but  just  then  the 
queer  little  cart  gave  a  joggle  which  quite  up 
set  his  shaky  lamb  legs,  and  down  he  sank,  and 
kept  quiet  throughout  the  rest  of  the  time. 

When  the  procession  reached  the  altar  the 
musicians  stopped  playing,  and  the  first  two 
shepherds,  kneeling,  presented  the  pigeons  and 
the  basket  of  fruit ;  and  then  the  little  cart  was 
wheeled  up  so  as  to  bring  Beppo  directly  in 
front  of  all,  and  the  whole  company  knelt  as 
the  priest  blessed  the  offerings. 


1 62  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

After  this  beautiful  ceremony  which  ended  the 
service,  the  players  again  struck  up  King  Rene's 
tune,  and  the  procession,  shepherds,  Ninette, 
Beppo,  peasants,  and  all,  once  more  moved  on, 
this  time  down  the  outer  aisle  and  toward  the 
great  open  portal. 

It  took  some  time  for  the  last  of  its  followers 
to  reach  the  doorway,  for  the  throng  was  very 
great;  but  at  length  Felix,  who  had  marched 
with  the  children  in  the  last  group,  came  to  the 
threshold  and  stepped  out  into  the  starry  night. 

He  stood  for  a  moment  smiling  and  gazing 
aimlessly  ahead,  overwhelmed  with  the  glory 
of  all  that  had  passed  within  the  church.  Pres 
ently  he  felt  some  one  pluck  his  sleeve,  and 
turning  round,  he  met  the  dancing  eyes  of  the 
little  Lady  Elinor. 

She  gave  a  little  peal  of  laughter  at  his  sur 
prise,  and  exclaimed :  "Oh,  I  coaxed  mon  fiere, 
the  count,  to  fetch  me  hither  for  this  blessed 
night.  Thou  knowest  he  promised !  I  rode 
my  white  palfrey  all  the  way  by  the  side  of  his 


FELIX  163 

big  brown  horse.  And  I  have  seen  the  pro 
cession,  and  Beppo  with  my  red  ribbon  round 
his  neck."  Here  she  gave  another  little  gurgle 
of  delight. 

"And  oh,  Felix,  my  father  hath  seen  thine, 
and  'tis  all  settled  !  Thou  art  to  be  a  famous 
carver  with  the  Pere  Videau,  as  thou  wishest," 
— for  the  Lady  Elinor  had  unbounded  faith  in 
Felix's  powers, — "and,  Felix,"  she  added, 
"  I  trow  'twas  the  little  Christ  Child  for  thy 
creche  that  did  it ! " 

Then,  with  a  merry  smile,  she  darted  off  to 
her  father,  the  Count  Bernard,  who  was  waiting 
for  her  down  the  church  path. 

For  a  little  while  after  she  had  gone  Felix 
did  not  move,  but  stood  as  one  in  a  dream. 
Elinor's  sweet  words,  ringing  in  his  ears,  min 
gled  with  the  glad  songs  the  peasants  were 
again  singing  on  their  homeward  way,  till  alto 
gether  he  did  not  quite  know  whether  he  was 
awake  or  asleep,  but  only  felt  an  indistinct  no 
tion  that  some  wonderful  fairy,  who  had  the 


1 64  TROUBADOUR  TALES 

face  of  a  little  maid  he  knew,  had  whispered  in 
his  ear  something  that  was  to  make  him  happy 
forever. 

Presently  a  loud  bleat  close  at  his  side  startled 
him,  and  looking  down,  he  saw  that  Ninette, 
decked  in  her  gay  garlands,  and  still  dragging 
the  be-ribboned  Beppo  in  the  little  cart,  had 
broken  away  from  the  Pere  Michaud  and  come 
close  up  to  himself. 

Then,  with  a  sudden  movement,  he  stooped 
over,  and,  seizing  Beppo  in  both  arms,  hugged 
and  squeezed  him  till  poor  Beppo  squeaked 
with  surprise,  and  opened  his  red  mouth  and 
gasped  for  breath.  But  Felix  only  hugged  him 
the  harder,  murmuring  under  his  breath,  "Bless 
thy  little  heart,  Beppo !  Bless  thy  little  heart ! " 
For  in  a  vague  way  he  realized  that  the  truant 
lamb  had  somehow  brought  him  his  heart's  de 
sire,  and  that  was  quite  enough  Christmas  hap 
piness  for  one  year. 

And  the  little  Lady  Elinor  was  right,  too. 
Years  after,  when  Felix  grew  to  be  a  man,  he 


FELIX  165 

did,  in  very  truth,  become  a  "  famous  carver," 
as  she  had  declared. 

Far  surpassing  his  first  master,  the  Pere 
Videau,  he  traveled  and  worked  in  many  cities  ; 
yet  never,  through  all  his  long  life,  did  he  forget 
that  Christmas  Eve  in  the  little  village  of  Sur 
Varne. 

Those  who  knew  him  best  said  that  among 
his  dearest  treasures  he  always  kept  a  beauti 
fully  carved  little  box,  and  in  it  a  bit  of  faded 
crimson  ribbon  from  the  looms  of  Lyons. 
While,  as  for  Beppo — well,  if  ever  some  happy 
day  you  chance  to  visit  the  lovely  land  of  Pro 
vence,  perhaps  you  will  see  a  certain  grand  old 
cathedral  in  the  ancient  city  of  Aries ;  and,  if 
you  do,  look  sharp  at  the  figure  of  a  lamb 
chiseled  in  white  stone  over  the  great  portal. 
Look  well,  I  say,  for  Felix,  when  he  carved  it, 
would  have  told  you  that  he  was  thinking  all 
the  while  of  Beppo. 


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